









.N^ 












^~ #'■" 












"^^0^ 






^^d* 









0^' .^. 



















^ -qv , <■ 




r-.<^--"c/:> 



A> % 






:t 















.*-J 






■^ 
^ 



-^ 



"^ < 



C^ ^V^^ 







^.^ .^^M/.^-^./ / - ^-^^ 






rO^ ^ 



\ " 



.% 












,^^ ^-^ 






^.* .^f' 



^^'^°- 










-0- »■<•», ^-^ 



'-"O ,G^^ 







THE 



FUDGE FAMILY 



IN 



i: 



3$art$< 



T. DAVISON, LOMBARD-STREET, WHITEFRIARS, LONDON. 



THE 

FUDGE FAMILY 

IN 

Parts. 



EDITED BY 

THOMAS BROWN, THE YOUNGER, 

AUTHOR OF THE TWOPENNY POST-BAG. 



Le Leggi della Maschera richiedono che una persona masclie- 
rata aon sia salutata per nome da uno che la conosce malgrado il 
suo travestimento. — CASTIGLIONE. 



THIRD EDITION. 



LONDON 



PRINTED FOR LONGMAN, HURST, REES, OUME, 
AND BROWN, PATERNOSTER-ROW. 

1818. 



^^i 



if 



PREFACE. 



In what manner the following Epistles-<;ame 
into my hands, it is not necessary for the public 
to know. It will be seen by Mr. Fudge''s Se- 
cond Letter, that he is one of those gentlemen 
whose Stcrtt Services in Ireland, under the mild 

ministry of my Lord C gh, have been so 

amply and gratefully remunerated. Like his 
friend and associate, Thomas Reynolds, Esq. 
he had retired upon the reward of his honest 
industry ; but has lately been induced to appear 
again in active life, and superintend the training of 



VI 



that Delatorian Cohort, which Lord S — dm— th, 
in his wisdom and benevolence, has organized. 

Whether Mr. Fudge, himself, has yet made 
any discoveries, does not appear from the follow- 
ing pages ; — ^but much may be expected from a 
person of his zeal and sagacity, and, indeed, to 
him, Lord S — dm — th, and the Greenland- 
bound ships, the eyes of all lovers of discoveries 
are now most anxiously directed. 

I regret that I have been obhged to omit Mr. 
Bob Fudge's Third Letter, concluding the ad- 
ventures of his Day with the Dinner, Opera, &c. 
&c. — but, in consequence of some remarks upon 
Marinette's thin drapery, which, it was thought, 
might give offence to certain well-meaning per- 
sons, the manuscript was sent back to Paris for 



vu 



his revision, and had not returned when the last 
sheet was put to press. 

It will not, I hope, be thought presumptuous, 
if I take this opportunity of complaining of a 
very serious injustice I have suffered from the 
public. Dr. King wrote a treatise to prove that 
Bentley " was not the author of his own book," 
and a similar absurdity has been asserted of me^ 
in almost all the best-informed literary circles. 
With the name of the real author staring them 
in the face, they have yet persisted in attributing 
my works to other people ; and the fame of the 
Twopenny Post-Bag — such as it is — ^having ho- 
vered doubtfully over various persons, has at last 
settled upon the head of a certain little gentleman, 
who wears it, I understand, as complacently as 
if it actually belonged to him ; without even the 



Vlll 

honesty of avowing, with his own favourite au- 
thor, (he will excuse the pun) 

Eyuj $' 'O MftPOS af a; 

I can only add that if any lady or gentleman, 
curious in such matters, will take the trouble 
of calling at my lodgings, 245, Piccadilly, I shall 
have the honour of assuring them, in projmd 
persona, that I am — his, or her, 

very obedient 
and very humble servant, 

THOMAS PROWN, THE YOUNGER. 

April 17, 1818. 



LETTER I. 

FROM MISS BIDDY FUDGE TO MISS DOROTHY , 

OF CLONSKILTY, IN IRELAND. 

Amiens. 
Dear Doll, Avhile the tails of our horses are 
plaiting. 
The trunks tying on, and Papa, at the door. 
Into very bad French is, as usual, translating 
His English resolve not to give a sou more, 
I sit down to write you a line — only think ! — 
A letter from France, with French pens and French 
ink^ 

B 



How delightful ! though, would you believe it, my 

dear } 
I have seen nothing yet very wonderful here i 
No adventure, no sentiment, far as we've conae. 
But the corn-fields and trees quite as dull as at 

home ; 
And but for the post-boy, his boots and his queue, 
1 might Jm5^ as well be at Clonskilty with you ! 
In vain, at Dessein's, did I take from my tnmk 
That divine fellow, Sterne, and fall reading '' The 

Monki" 
In vain did I think of his charming Dead Ass, 
And remember the crust and the wallet — alas ! 
No monks can be had now for love or for money, 
(All owing. Pa says, to that infidel BoNBy 3) 
And, though one little Neddy we saw in our drive 
Out of classical Nampont, the beast was alive ! 



By the by, though, at Calais, Papa had a touch 
Of romance on the pier, which afiected me much. 
At the sight of that spot, where our darling Dix- 

HUIT 

Set the first of his own dear legitimate feet, * 
(Modell'd out so exactly, and — God bless the mark \ 
'Tis a foot, Dolly, worthy so Orand a Monarque) 
He exclaimed '' Oh mon Roi !^ aiid, with tear-drop* 

ping eye. 
Stood to gaze on the spot — while some Jacobin, 

nigh, 
Mutter'd out with a shrug (what an insolent thing!) 
*' Ma foi, he be right— 'tis de Englishman's King 5 
And dat gros pied de cockon — begar, me vil say 
Dat de foot look mosh better, if tum*d toder way.'* 

• To commemorate the laoding of Louis le Desire firom Eng- 
land, the impression of his foot is marked out on the pier at Calais, 
and a pillar S^ith an inscnptioii raised opposite to the spot. 

B 2 



There's the pillar^ too— Lord I 1 had nearly forgot — 
What a charming idea ! — rais'd close to the spot ; 
The mode being now, (as you've heard, I suppose, ) 
To build tombs over legs, * and raise pillars to toes. 

This is all that's occurred sentimental as yet ; 
Except, indeed, some little flovv'r-nymphs we*ve met. 
Who disturb one's romance with pecuniary views, 
Flinging flow'rs in your path, and then — bawling for 

sous ! 
And some picturesque beggars, whose multitudes 

seem 
To recall the good days of the ancien regime. 
All as ragged and brisk, you'll be happy to learn. 
And as thin as they were in the time of dear St£RN£. 

Our party consists, in a neat Calais job. 
Of Papa and myself, Mr. Connor and Bob. 
* Ci-git la jambe de &c. &c. 



You remember how sheepish Bob look'd at Kilrandy, 
But, Lord ! he's quite alter'd — they've made him a 

Dandy ; 
A thing, you know, whisker'd, great-eoated, and 

lac'd, 
Like an hour-glass^ exceedingly small in the waist : 
Quite a new sort of creatures, unknown yet to 

scholars. 
With heads, so immoveably stuck in shirt-collars. 
That seats like our music-stools soon must be found 

them. 
To twirl, when the creatures may wish to look round 

them ! 
In short, dear, " a Dandy" describes what I mean. 
And Bob's far the best of the genus I've seen : 
An improving young man, fond of learning, am- 
bitious. 
And goes now to Paris to study French dishes, 



L^ 



6 



Whose names — think, how quick ! — healready knows 

pat, 
A la braise^ petits fdtSs, and — what d*ye call that 
They inflict on potatoes ? — oh ! maiire d* hotel — • 
I assure you, dear Dolly, he knows them as well 
As if nothing but these all his life he had eat. 
Though a bit of them Bobby has never touch*d yet j 
But just knows the names of French dishes and 

cooks. 
As dear Pa knows the titles of authors and books. 

As to Pa, what d'ye think ? — mind, it's all entre nous, 
But you know, love, I never keep secrets from you — 
Why, he's writing a book — what ! a tale ? a romance ? 
No, ye God5, would it were! — but his Travels in 

Frances 
At the special desire (he let out t'other day) 
Of his friend and his patron, my Lord C — stl-r-gh. 



Who said, '' My de^- Fudge ** 1 forget th* 

exact words. 
And, it's strange, no one ever remembers my Lord's ; 
But 'twas something to say that, as all must allow 
A good orthodox work is much wanting just now, 
To expound to the world the new — thiugummie — 

science, 
Found out by the*— what's-its-name— Holy Alliance, 
And prove to mankind that their rights are but folly. 
Their freedom a joke (which it is, you know, Dolly) 
*' There's none," said his Lordship, '' if /may be 

judge. 
Half so fit for this great undertaking as Fudge !" 

The matter's soon settled — ^Pa flies to the Row, 
{The^rst stage your tourists now usually go) 
Settles all for his quarto — advertisements, praises — 
Starts post from the door, with his tablets —French 
phrases — 



"* Scott's Visit," of course — in short, ev'ry thing he 

has 
An author can want, except words and ideas : — 
And, lo ! the first thing, in the spring of the year. 
Is Phil. Fudge at the front of a Quarto, my dear ! 

But, bless me, my paper's near out, so I'd better 
Draw fast to a close : — this exceeding long letter 
You owe to a dejeuner a la foiirchctte , 
Which Bobby wmLld have, and is hard at it yet. — 
What's next ? oh, the tutor, the last of the party. 
Young Connor : — they say he's so like Bonaparte, 
His nose and his chin, — which Papa rather dreads. 
As the Bourbons, you know, are suppressing all 

heads 
That resemble old Nap's, and who knows but their 

honours 
May think, in their fright, of suppressing poor 

Connor's ? 



9 



Au resit, (as we say) the young lad's well enough. 
Only talks much of Athens, Rome, virtue, and stuffy 
A third cousin of ours, by the way — poor as Job, 

(Though of royal descent by the side of Mamma) 
And for charity made private tutor to Bob — 

^nirt nouSy too, a Papist — how lib'ral of Pa ! 

This is all, dear, — forgive me for breaking off thus ; 
But Bob's dejeuner s done, and Papa's in a fuss. 

B. F. 

P. S. 
How provoking of Pa ! he wiU not let me stop 
Just to run in and rummage some milliner's shop j 
And my debut in Paris, I blush to think on it. 
Must now, Doll, be made in a hideous low bonnet. 
But Paris, dear Paris! — oh, there will be joy. 
And romance, and high bonnets, and Madame le 
Roi!* 

• A celebrated mantua-maker in Paris. 



LETTER II. 

FROM PHIL. FUDCE, ESQ. TO THE LORD 
VISCOUNT C H. 

Pari*. 
At length, my Lord, I have the bliss 
To date to you a line from this 
" Demoraliz'd" metropolis 3 
Where, by plebeians low and scurvy. 
The throne was tum'd quite topsy-turvy. 
And Kingship, tumbled from its seat, 
" Stood prostrate" at the people's feet. 
Where (still to use your Lordship's tropes) 
The Itvel of obedience slopes 



11 



Upward and downward, as the stream 
Of ki/dra faction kicks the beam ! * 
Where the poor palace changes masters 

Quicker than a snake its skin. 
And Louis is roli'd out on castors. 

While Boney's borne on shoulders in :- 
But where, in evo-y change, no doubt,^ 

One special good your Lordship traces,- 
That 'tis the Kings alone turn out. 

The Ministers still keep their places. 

How oft, dear Viscount C gh, 

I've thought of thee upon the way. 



* This excellent imitation of the noble Lord's style shews how 
deeply Mr. Fudge must have studied his great original. Irish 
oratory, indeed, abounds with such startling peculiarities. Thus 

the eloquent Counsellor B , in describiug some hypocritical 

pretender to charity, said — " He put his hand in his breeches- 
pocket, like a crocodile, and," &c. &c. 



12 



As in my Job (what place could be 
More apt to wake a thought of thee ?) 
Or, ofteuer far, when gravely sitting 
Upon my dickey, (as is fitting 
For him who writes a Tour, that he 
May more of men and manners see,) 
I've thought of thee and of thy glories, 
Thou guest of Kings, and King of Tories ! 
Reflecting how thy fame has grown 

And spread, beyond man's usual share. 
At home, abroad, till thou art known. 

Like Major Semple, every where ! 
And marv'lling with what pow'rs of breath 
Your Lordship, having speech' d to death 
Some hundreds of your fellow-men. 
Next speech'd to Sovereigns' ears,— and when 
All Sovereigns else were doz'd, at last 
Speech'd down the Sovereign * of Belfast. 

• The title of the chief magistrate of Belfast, before whom hi? 



13 



Oh ! mid the praises and the trophies 
Thou gain'st from Morosophs and Sophis 3 
Mid all the tributes to thy fame. 

There's one thou shouldst be chiefly pleas'd at — 
That Ireland gives her snuflf thy name. 

And C GH*s the thing now sneez'd at ! 

But hold, my pen ! — a truce to praising — 
Though ev*n your Lordship will allow 

The theme's temptations are amazing ; 
But time and ink run short, and now, 

(As thou wouldst say, my guide and teacher 
In these gay metaphoric fringes, ) 

Lordship (with the " stadium imraane loquendi" attributed by 
Ovid to that chattering and rapacious class of birds, the pies) de- 
livered sundry long and self-gratulatory orations, on his return 
from the Continent. It was at one of these Irish dinners that his 
gallant brother, Lord S., proposed the health of " The best ca- 
valry officer in Europe — the Regent !" 



14 . 

I must embark into the feature 

On which this letter chiefly hinges ; — * 
My Book^ the Book that is to prove— 
And will, so help ye Sprites above. 
That sit on clouds, as grave as judges. 
Watching the labours of the Fudges ! — 
Will prove that all the world, at present, 
Is in a state extremely pleasant : 
That Europe — thanks to royal swords 

And bay'nets, and the Duke commanding — 
Enjoys a peace which, like the Lord's, 

Passeth all human understanding : 
That France prefers her go-cart King 

To such a coward scamp as Boney — 
Though round, with each a leading-string. 

There standeth many a Royal crony, 

• Verbatim from one of the noble Viscount's Speeches — " And 
now, Sip, I must embark into the feature on which this question 
chiefly liinges.'* 



15 



For fear the chubbyj tottering thing 

Should fall, if left there loneT/'ponet/ : 
That England, too, the more her debts. 
The more she spends, the richer gets j 
And that the Irish, grateful nation ! 

Remember when by thee reign'd over, 
And bless thee for their flagellation. 

As Heloisa did her lover!* 
That Poland, left for Russia's lunch 

Upon the side-board, snug reposes j 
While Saxony 's as pleas'd as Punch, 

And Norway '^'^ on a bed of roses !" 
That, as for some few million souls, 

Transferr'd by contract, bless the clods ? 
If half were strangled — Spaniards, Poles, 

And Frenchmen— 't wouldn't make much odds, 

♦ See her Letters. 



16 



So Europe's goodly Royal ones 
Sit easy on their sacred thrones 3 
So Ferdinand embroiders gaily. 
And Louis eats his salmi * daily ; 
So time is left to Emperor Sandy 
To be halfCsessLr and half Dandy j 

And G GE the R — g — ^t (whoM forget 

That doughtiest chieftain of thff*f et ?) 
Hath wherewithal for trinkets new. 

For dragons, after Chinese models. 
And chambers where Duke Ho and Soo 

Might come and nine times knock their nod- 
dles !— 
All this my Quarto '11 prove — much more 
Than Quarto ever prov'd before — 
In reas'ning with the Post I'll vie. 
My facts the Courier shall supply. 

Homer Odyss. 3. 



^7 

My jokes V — ns — t, P — le my sense. 
And thou, sweet Lord, my eloquence ! 

My Journal, penn'd by fits and starts. 
On Biddy's back or Bobby's shoulder, 

(My son, my Lord, a youth of parts, 
Who longs to be a small place-holder) 

Is — though I say't, that shouldn't say — 

Extremely good ; and, by the way. 

One extract from it — only one — 

To show its spirit, and I've done. 

'^ Jul. thirty-Jirst. — Went, after snack, 

'' To the Cathedral of St. Denny j 
" Sigh'd o*er the Kings of ages back, 

" And — gave the old Concierge a penny! 
" {Mem. — Must see Rheims, much fam'd, 'tis said, 
** For making Kings and gingerbread.) 



18 



'' Was shown the tomb where lay, so stately, 

'' A little Bourbon, buried lately, 

"" Thrice high and puissant, we were told, 

'' Though only twenty- four hours old ! * 

^' Hear this, thought I, ye Jacobins 3 

" Ye Burdetts, tremble in your skins ! 

" If Royalty, but ag'd a day, 

'' Can boast such high and puissant sway, 

'^ What impious hand its pow'r would fix, 

'' Full fledg'd and wigg'df at fifty-six!** 

The argument's quite new, you see. 
And proves exactly Q. E. D. — 



* So described on the coffin : " tres haute et puissante Prrn- 
cesse, agee d'lin jour." 

f There is a fulness and breadth in this portrait of Royalty, 
whicli reminds us of what Pliny says, in speaking of Trajan's 
great qualities:—" nonne longfe lateque Priucipera ostentant?'' 



19 



So now, with duty to the R — G — t, 
I am, dear Lord^ 

Your most obedient, 

P. F. 
Hotel Breteuil, Rue RivolL 
Neat lodgings — rather dear for mej 
But Biddy said she thought 'twould look 
Genteeler thus to date my Book, 
And Biddy's right — ^besides, it curries 
Some favour with our friends at Murray's, 
Who scorn what any man can say. 
That dates from Rue St. Honore ! * 



* See the Quarterly Review for May, 1816, where Mr. Hob- 
house is accused of having written his book " in a back street of 
the French capital," 



C2 



LETTER III. 

FROM MR. BOB FUDGE TO RICHARD , ESQ. 

Oh Dick ! you may talk of your writing and reading. 
Your Logic and Greek, but there's nothing like 

feeding ; 
And this is the place for it, Dicky, you dog. 
Of all places on earth — the head quarters of Prog ! 
Talk of England — her fam'd Magna Charta, I 

swear, is 
A humbug, a flam, to the Carte* at old Ve'ry's j 

• The Bill of Fare.— Very, a well-known Restaurateur. 



21 



And as for your Juries — who would not set o'er 'em 
A Jury of Tasters,* with woodcocks before 'em ? 
Give Cartwrigbt his Parliaments, fresh every 

year — 
But those friends of short Commons would never do 

here ; 
And, let Romilly speak as he will on the question. 
No Digest of Law's like the laws of digestion I 

By the by, Dick, / fatten — but nHmporte for that, 
'Tis the mode — your Legitimates always get fat. 
There's the R — g — t, there's Louis — and Boney 

tried too, 
But, tho' somewhat imperial in paunch, *i wouldn't 

do :— 

* Mr. Bob alludes particularly, I presume, to the famous Jury 
Degustateur, which used to assemble at the Hotel of M. Grimod 
de la Reyniere, and of which this modern Archestratus lias given 
an account in his Almanach des Gourmands, cinqui^me annee, 
p. 78. 



22 



He improv'd, indeed, much in this point, when he 

wed. 
But he ne'er grew right royally fat in the head, 

Dick, Dick, what a place is this Paris ! — but stay—^ 
As my raptures may bore you, I'll just sketch a Day, 
As we pass it, myself and some comrades Pve got. 
All thorough-bred Gnostics, who know what is 
what. 

After dreaming some hours of the land of Cocaigne,* 
That Elysium of all that is friand and nice, 

Where for hail they have bon-bons, and claret for 
rain. 
And the skaiters in winter show off on oream-ice } 

* The fairy-land of cookery and gourmandise ; " Pais, ou le 
ciel offre les viandes toutes cuites, et ou, comme on parle, les 
alouettes tombent toutes roties. Du Latin, coquere." — Duchat, 



23 



Where so ready all nature its cookery yields, 

Macaroni au parmesan grows in the fields j 

Little birds fly about with the true pheasant taint. 

And the geese are all born with a liver complaint ! * 

I rise— put on neck-cloth — stiflF, tight, as can be — 

For a lad who goes into the world, Dick, like me. 

Should have his neck tied up, you know— there's no 

doubt of it — 

Almost as tight as some lads who go out of it. 

With whiskers well oiPd, and with boots that '' hold 
up 

*' The mirror to nature" — so bright you could sup 

♦ The process by which the liver of the unfortunate goose is 
enlarged, in order to produce that richest of all dainties, the foie 
gras, of which such renowned pates are made at Strasbourg and 
Toulouse, is thus described in the Cours Gastronomique : — " On 
deplume I'estomac des oies ; on attache ensuite ces aniraaux aux 
chenets d'une cheminee, et on les nourrit devant le feu. La 
captivite et la chaleur doiinent a ces volatiles une maladie hepa- 
tique, qui fait gonfler leur foie," ii^c. p. 20G. 



24 



Off the leather like china ; with coat, too, that 

draws 
On the tailor, who suffers, a martyr's applause ! — 
With head bridled up, like a four-in-hand leader. 
And stays — devil's in thenoi — too tight for a feeder, 
I strut to the old Cafe Hardy, which yet 
Beats the field at a dejeuner a lafourchette. 
There, Dick, what a breakfast ! — oh, not like your 

ghost 
Of a breakfast in England, your curst tea and 

toast; 
But a side-board, you dog, wliere one's eye roves 

about. 
Like a Turk's in the Haram, and thence singles 

out 
One's pai4 of larks, just to tune up the throat. 
One's small limbs of chickens, done en papillote. 



25 



One*s erudite cutlets, drest all ways but plain^ 
Or one's kidnies — imagine, Dick — done with cham- 
pagne ! 
Then, some glasses of Beaune, to dilute — or, may- 
hap, 
Chambertiuy* which you know's the pet tipple of 

Nap, 
And which Dad, by the by, that legitimate stickler. 
Much scruples to taste, but /'m not so partic'lar. — 
Your coflFee comes next, by prescription ; and then, 

Dick, 's 
The coffee's ne'er-failing and glorious appendix, 
(If books had but such, my old Grecian, depend 

on't, 
rd swallow ev'n W — tk — Ns', for sake of the end 

on't); 
A neat glass oi parfait-amour, which one sips 
Just as if bottled velvet f tipp'd over one's lips ! 
• The favourite wine of Napoleon. f Ftloun en bouteille. 



26 



This repast being ended, and "paid for — (how odd ! 
Till a man's us'd to paying, there's something so 

queer in't!) — 
The sun now well out, and the girls all abroad. 
And the world enough air'd for us, Nobs> to appear 

in*t. 
We lounge up the Boulevards, where — oh, Dick, 

the phyzzes. 
The turn-outs, we meet — What a nation of quizzes ! 
Here toddles along some old figure of fun, 
With a coat you might date Anno Domini 1 ; 
A lac'd hat, worsted stockings, and — noble old soul ! 
A fine ribbon and Cross in his best button-hole ; 
Just such as our Pr e, who nor reason nor fun 

dreads. 
Inflicts, without ev'n a court-martial, on hundreds.* 

* It was said by Wicquefort, more than a hundred years ago, 
" Le Hoi d'Angleterre fait seul plus de chevaliers que tous les 
autres Roisde la Chrelieiite ensemble." — What would he say now? 



2? 



Here trips a griseltc, with a fond> roguish eye, 
(Rather eatable things these grisettes by the by) 3 
And there an old demoisdle, almost as fond. 
In a silk that has stood since the time of the Fronde* 
There goes a French Dandy— ah, Dick! unlike some 

ones 
We've seen about White's — ^the Mounseers are but 

rum ones ; 
Such hats I — fit for monkies — I'd back Mrs. Draper 
To cut neater weather-boards out of brown paper : 
And coats — how I wish, if it wouldn't distress 'em. 
They'd club for old B — M — l, from Calais, to dress 

'em! 
The collar sticks out from the neck such a space. 
That you'd swear 'twas the plan of this head- 
lopping nation. 
To leave there behind them a snug little place 
For the head to drop into, on decapitation ! 



28 



In short, what with mountebanks. Counts, and 

friseurs, 
Some mummers by trade, and the rest amateurs — 
What with captains in new jockey-boots and silk 
breeches. 
Old dustmen with swinging great opera-hats. 
And shoeblacks reclining by statues in niches, 
There never was seen such a race of Jack Sprats! 

From the Boulevards — but hearken! — yes — as I'm 

a sinner. 
The clock is just striking the half- hour to dinner : 
So no more at present — short time for adorning— 
My Day must be finish'd some other fine morning. 
Now, hey for old Beauvilliers* * larder, my boy ! 
And, once there, if the Goddess of Beauty and Joy 
Were to write ^' Come and kiss me, dear Bob !'* I'd 

not budge — 
Not a step, Dick, as sure as my name is 

R. Fudge. 
♦ A celebrated Restaurateur. 



LETTER IV. 



FROM PHELIM CONNOR TO 



Keturn !" — no, never, while the withering hand 
Of bigot power is on that hapless land ; 
While, for the faith nay fathers held to God, 
Ev'n in the fields where free those fathers trod, 
I am proscrib'd, and — like the spot left bare 
In Israel's halls, to tell the proud and fair 
Amidst their mirth, that Slavery had been there — * 

* " They use to leave a yard square of the wall of the house 
unplastered, on which they write, in large letters, either the fore- 
mentioned verse of the Psalmist (' If I forget thee, O Jerusalem,' 
&c.) or the words — * The memory of the desolation.' " Leo (f 

Modenn. 



30 



On all I lovcj home, parents, friends, I trace 
The mournful mark of bondage and disgrace ! 
No ! — let them stay, who in their country's pangs 
See nought but food for factions and harangues , 
Who yearly kneel before their masters' doors. 
And hawk their wi'ongs, as beggars do their sores : 
* Still let your * * * * 

Still hope and suffer, all who can ! — but I, 
Who durst not hope, and cannot bear, must fly. 

But whither ? — every- where the scourge pursues — 
Turn where he will, the wretched wanderer ^^ews, 
In the bright, broken hopes of aU his race. 
Countless reflections of th' Oppressor's face ! 

' I have thought it prudent to omit some parts of Mr. Fbeliia 
Comior's letter. He is evidently an intemperate young man, and 
has associated with his cousins, the Fudges, to very little purpose. 



31 



Every-where gallant hearts, and spirits true. 
Are serv'd up victims to the vile and few j 
While E ***** *^ every-where — ^the general foe 
Of Truth and Freedom, wheresoever they glow — 
Is first, when tyrants strike, to aid the blow ! 

Oh, E ****** ! could such poor revenge atone 
For wrongs, that well might claim the deadliest 

one 5 
Were it a vengeance, sweet enough to sate 
The wretch who flies from thy intolerant hate. 
To hear his curses on such barbarous sway 
Echoed, where'er he bends his cheerless way ) — 
Could this content him, every lip he meets 
Teems for his vengeance with such poisonous sweets 5 
Were this his luxury, never is thy name 
Pronounc'd, but he doth banquet on thy shame 3 



32 



Hears maledictions ring from every side 
Upon that grasping power, that selfish pride. 
Which vaunts its own, and scorns all rights be- 
side } 
That low and desperate envy, which to blast 
A neighbour's blessings, risks the few thou hast ; — 
That monster. Self, too gross to be conceal'd. 
Which ever lurks behind thy profFer'd shield 3 — 
That faithless craft, which, in thy hour of need. 
Can court the slave, can swear he shall be freed. 
Yet basely spurns him, when thy point is gain'd. 
Back to his masters, ready gagg'd and chain'd ! 
Worthy associate of that band of Kings, 
That royal, rav'ning flock, whose vampire wings 
O'er sleeping Europe treacherously brood, 
And fan her into dreams of promis'd good. 
Of hope, of freedom — but to drain her blood ! 



m 



If thus to hear thee branded be a bliss 

That Vengeance loves, there's yet more sweet than 

this, — 
That 'twas an Irish head, an Irish heart. 
Made thee the fall'n and tarnish'd thing thou art ; 
S That, as the Centaur* gave th' infected vest 
In which he died, to rack his conqueror's breast, 

We sent thee C gh : — as heaps of dead 

Have slain their slayers by the pest they spread, 
So hath our land breath'd out — thy fame to dim. 
Thy strength to waste, and rot thee, soul and limb — 
Her worst infections all condens'd in him ! 



When will the world shake oflf such yokes ? oh, \n hen 
Will that redeeming day shine out on men, 

* Membra et Herculeos toros 

Urit.lues Nessea. • - 

lUe, ille victor vincitur. 

Senec. Her cut. (Et. 

D 



34 



That shall behold them rise, erect and free 
As Heav'n and Nature meant mankind should be! 
When Reason shall no longer blindly bow 
To the vile pagod things, that o'er her brow. 
Like him of Jaghernaut, drive trampling now j 
Nor Conquest dare to desolate God's earth ; 
Nor drunken Victory, with a Nero's mirth. 
Strike her lewd harp amidst a people's groans ; — 
But, built on love, the world's exalted thrones 
Shall to the virtuous and the wise be given — 
Those bright, those sole Legitimates of Heaven ! 

IVhen will this be ? — or, oh ! is it, in truth. 
But one of those sweet, day-break dreams of youth. 
In which the Soul, as round her morning springs, 
'Twixt sleep and waking, sees such dazzling things ! 
And must the hope, as vain as it is bright. 
Be all giv'n up ? — and are they only right. 
Who say this world of thinking souls was made 
To be by Kings partition'd, truck'd, and weigh' d 



35 



In scales that^ ever since the world begun, 
Have counted millions but as dust to one ? 
Are they the only wise, who laugh to scorn 
The rights, the freedom to which man was born ; 
Who ***** 

****** 
Who, proud to kiss each separate rod of power. 
Bless, while he reigns, the minion of the hour ; 
Worship each would-be God, that o'er them moves, 
And take the thundering of his brass for Jove's ! 
If this be wisdom, then farewell, my books. 
Farewell, ye shrines of old, ye classic brooks. 
Which fed my soul with currents, pure and fair. 
Of living Truth, that now must stagnate there ! — 
Instead of themes that touch the lyre with light. 
Instead of Greece, and her immortal fight 
For Liberty, which once awak'd my strings. 
Welcome the Grand Conspiracy of Kings, 

D 2 



36 



The High Legitimates, the Holy Band, 
Who, bolder ev'n than He of Sparta's land. 
Against whole millions, panting to be free. 
Would guard the pass of right-line tyranny ! 
Instead of him, th' Athenian bard, whose blade 
Had stood the onset which his pen pourtray'd. 
Welcome * * » * * 

*»**♦# 

And, 'stead of Aristides — ^^voe the day 

Such names should mingle ! — welcome C gh ! 

Here break we oflF, at this unhallow'd name, 
Like priests of old, when words ill-omen'd came. 
My next shall tell thee, bitterly shall tell. 
Thoughts that * * * * 

******* 

Thoughts that — could patience hold — 'twere wiser 

far 
To leave still hid and burning where they are I 



LETTER V. 



TROM MISS BIDDY FUDGE TO MISS 
DOROTHY . 

" HAT a time since I wrote ! — I'm a sad, naughty 

girl— 
Though^ like a tee-totum^ I'm all in a twirl. 
Yet ev'n (as you wittily say) a tee-totum 
Between all its twirls gives a letter to note 'em. 
But, Lord, such a place! and then, Dolly, my 

dresses, 
My gowns, so divine ! — there's no language ex- 
presses, 



rfiiii^sR 



38 



Exceptjustthe txuo words *'superbe," " magnifique/' 
The trimmings of that which I had home last week ! 
It is call'd — I forget — a la — something which 

sounded 
Like alicampane — but, in truth, I'm confounded 
And bother'd, my dear, 'twixt that troublesome boy*s 
(Bob's) cookery language, and Madame le Roi's: 
What with fillets of roses, and fillets of veal. 
Things garni with lace, and things garni with eel. 
One's hair and one's cutlets both cnpapillote, 
^ And a thousand more things I shall ne'er have by rote, 
I can scarce tell the difference, at least as to phrase. 
Between beef a la Psyche and curls a h braise. — 
But, in short, dear, I'm trick'd out quite ^ la 

Frangaise, 
With my bonnet — so beautiful ! — high up and 

poking. 
Like things that are put to keep chimnies from 

smoking. 



39 



VVTiere shall 1 begin with the endless delights 
Of this Eden of milliners, monkies, and sights — 
This dear busy place, where there's nothing trans- 
acting 
But dressing and dinnering, dancing and acting ? 

Imprimis, the Opera — mercy, my ears ! 

Brother Bobby's remark, t'other night, was a 

true one i — 
'' This must be the music," said he, " of the 

spears. 
For I'm curst if each note of it doesn't run 

through one!" 
Pa says (and you know, love, his Book's to make 

out 
*Twa& the Jacobins brought every mischief about) 
That this passion for roaring has come in of late, 
Since the rabble all tried for a mice in the State.-— 



40 



What a frightful idea, one's mind to o'erwh'elm ! 
What a chorus, dear Dolly, would soon be let 
loose of it. 
If, when of age, every man in the realm 

Had a voice like old Lais, * and chose to make 
use of it ! 
No — never was known in this riotous sphere 
Such a breach of the peace as their singing, my 

dear. 
So bad too, you*d swear that the God of both arts. 

Of Music and Physic, had taken a frolic 
For setting a loud fit of asthma in parts. 

And composing a fine rumbling base to a cholic ! 

But, the dancing — ah parlez-moi, Dolly, de ^a — 
There, indeed, is a treat that charms all but Papa. 

• The oldest, raost celebrated, and most noisy of the singers at 
the French Opera. 



41 



Such beauty — such grace — oh ye sylphs of romance! 

Fly, fly to TiTANiA, and ask her if she has 
One light-footed nymph in her train, that can 
dance 

Like divine Bigottini and sweet Fanny Bias ! 
Fanny Bias in Flora — dear creature ! — you'd swear. 

When her delicate feet in the dance twinkle round. 
That her steps are of light, that her home is 
the air. 

And she only par complaisance tou(^QS the ground. 
And when Bigoitixi in Psyche dishevels 

Her black flowing hair, and by daemons is driven. 
Oh ! who does not envy those rude little devils. 

That hold her and hug her, and keep her from 
heaven ? 
Then, the music — so softly its cadences die. 
So divinely — oh, Dolly ! between you and I, 
It's as well for my peace that there's nobody nigh 



^ 



To make love to me then — you*ve a soul, and can 

judge } 

What a crisis 'twould be for your friend Biddy 
Fudge! 

The next place (which Bobby has near lost his heart 

in) 
They call it the Play-house— I think — of St. Martin j * 
Quite charming — and veri/ religious — what folly 
To say that the French are not pious, dear DoiXY, 
When here one beholds, so correctly and rightly. 
The Testament turn'd into melo-drames nightly > 
And, doubtless, so fond they're of scriptural facts. 
They will soon get the Pentateuch up in five acts. 

♦ The Theatre de la Porte St. Martin, which was built when 
the Opera House in the Palais Royal was burned down, in 1 781.— A 
few days after this dreadful fire, which lasted more than a week, 
and in which several persons perished, the Parisian il6ganLes dis- 
played flame-coloured dresses, "couleur de feu d'Opera!" — Du- 
laure, Curiosit£s de Paris, 



43 



Here Daniel, in pantomime, * bids bold defiance 
To Nebuchadnezzar and all his stuff *d lions. 
While pretty young Israelites dance round the 

Prophet, 
In very thin clothing, and but little of it j— • 
HereBE'GRAND,t who shines in this scriptural path. 

As the lovely Susanna, without ev'n a relic 
Of drapery round her, comes out of the bath 

In a manner that. Bob says, is quite Eve-angelic ! 

But in short, dear, 'twould take me a month to recite 
All the exquisite places we're at, day and night j 

• A piece very popular last year, called •* Daniel, ou La Fosse 
aux Lions.'' The following scene will give an idea of the daring 
sublimity of these scriptural pantomimes. " Scene 20. — La four- 
naise devientun berceau de nuages azures, au fond duquel est un 
grouppe de nuages plus luraineux, et au milieu * Jehovah' au centre 
d'un cercle de rayons brillans, qui annonce la presence de I'E'ter- 
nel." 

f Madame Begrand, a finely formed woman, who acts in " Su- 
sanna and the Elders,"—" L'Amour et la Folic,*' &c. &c. 



M 



And, besides, ere I finish, I think you'll be glad 
Just to hear one delightful adventure I've had. 

Last night, at the Beaujon, * a place where — I 

doubt 
If I well can describe — there are cars, that set out 
From a lighted pavilion, high up in the air. 
And rattle you down, Doll, — you hardly know 

where. 
These vehicles, mind me, in which you go through 
This delightfully dangerous journey, hold two. 
Some cavalier asks, with humility, whether 

You'll venture down with him — you smile — 'tis a 

match J 



* The Promenades Atrieones, or French Mountains. — See a 
description of this singular and fantastic place of amusement in 
a pamphlet, truly worthy of it, by " F. F. Cotterel, Medecin, 
Docteur de la Faculte de Paris," &c. &c. 



45 



In an instant you're seated, and down both together 

Go thund'ring, as if you went post to old Scratch !* 

Well, it was but last night, as I stood and remark'd 

On the looks and odd ways of the girls who 

embark 'd. 
The impatience of some for the perilous flight. 
The fore'd giggle of others, 'twixt pleasure and 

fright,— 
That there came up — imagine, dear Doll, if you 

can — 
A fine sallow, sublime, sort of Werter-fac'd man. 
With mustachios that gave (what we read of so 

oft) 
The dear Corsair expression, half savage, half soft. 
As Hyaenas in love may be fancied to look, or 
A something between A belard and old Blucheu! 

♦According to Dr. Cottercl the cars go at the raie of forty- 
eight miles an hour. 



' ii'iif^iilrF-'-Siiii/iidi 



46 



Up he came, Doll, to me, and, uncovering his 

head, 
(Rather bald, but so warlike ! ) in bad English said, 
" Ah ! my dear — if Ma'mselle vil be so very good — 
Just for von littel course" — though I scarce under- 
stood 
What he wish'd me to do, I said, thank him, I 

would. 
Off we set — and, though 'faith, dear, I hardly knew 
whether 
My head or my heels were the uppermost then. 
For 'twas like heav*n and earth, Dolly, coming 
together, — 
Yet, spite of the danger, we dar'd it again. 
And oh ! as I gaz'd on the features and air 

Of the man, who for me all this peril defied, 
I could fancy almost he and I were a pair 

Of unhappy young lovers, who thus, side by side. 



47 



Were taking, instead of rope^ pistol, or dagger, a 
Desperate dash down the Falls of Niagara ! 

This achiev'd, through the gardens* we saunter'd 
about. 
Saw the fire-works, exclaim'd "magnifique!" at 
each cracker, 
And, when 'twas all o'er, the dear man saw us out 
With the air, I xuill say, of a Prince, to owrjiacre. 

Now, hear me — this Stranger — it may be mere 

folly— 
But who do you think we all think it is, DoUy ? 

* lu the Cafe attached to these gardens there are to be (as 
Doctor Cotterel informs us) " douze n^gres, tres-alertes, qui con- 
trasteront par I'ebene de leur peau avec le teint de lis et de roses 
de nos belles. Les glaces et les sorbets, servis par une main bieit 
noire, fera davantage ressortir I'albAtre des bras aiTondis de celles*' 
cu'-P. 22, 






48 



Why, bless you, no less than the great King" of 

Prussia, 
Who's here now incog.* — he, who made such a 

fuss, you 
Remember, in London, withBLUCHER and Platoff, 
When Sal was near kissing old Blucher's cravat oflF! 
Pa says he's come here to look after his money, 
(Not taking things now as he us'd under Boney) 
Which suits with our friend, for Bob saw him, he 

swore. 
Looking sharp to the silver receiv'd at the door. 
Besides, too, they say that his grief for his Queen 
(Which was plain in this sweet fellow's face to be 

seen) 
Requires £uch a stimulant dose as this car is, 
Us'd three times a day with young ladies in Paris. 

* His Majesty, who was at Paris under the travelling name of 
Count Ruppin, is known to have gone down the Beaajon very 
trequently. 



49 



Some Doctor, indeed, has declar'd that such grief 
Should — unless 'twould to utter despairing its 
folly push — 
Fly to the Beaujon, and there seek relief 

By rattling, as Bob says, "^ like shot through a 
holly-bush." 

i must now bid adieu — only think, Dolly, think 
If this should be the King — I have scarce slept a 

wink 
With imagining how it will sound in the papers. 
And how all the Misses my good luck will 

grudge. 
When they read that Count RuppiN, to drive away 

vapours. 
Has gone down the Beaujon with Miss Biddy 

Fudge. 



50 



Nota Bene. — Papa's almost certain 'tis he— 
For he knows the Legitimate cut, and could see. 
In the way he went poising and manag'd to tower 
So erect in the car, the true Balance of Power, 



LETTER VI. 

FROM PHIL. FUDGE, ESa. TO HIS BROTHER TIM. 
FUDGE, ESQ. BARRISTER AT LAW. 

Yours of the I2th receiv'd just now — 
Thanks for the hint, my trusty brother ! 

*Tis truly pleasing to see how 

We, Fudges, stand by one another. 

But never fear — I know my chap. 

And he knows me too — verbum sap. 

My Lord and I are kindred spirits. 

Like in our ways as two young ferrets ; 

Both fashion'd, as that supple race is. 

To twist into all sorts of places ;— 



^^ 



52 

Creatures lengthy, lean, and hungering. 
Fond of blood and iwrrow-mongering. 

As to my Book in 91, 

Call'd " Down with Kings, or. Who'd have 
thought it r" 
Bless you, the Book's long dead and gone, — 

Not ev*n th' Attorney-General bought it. 
And, though some few seditious tricks 
I play'd in 95 and 6, 
As you remind me in your letter. 
His Lordship likes me all the better 3 — 
We, proselytes, that come with news full. 
Are, as he says, so vastly useful ! 

Reynolds and I — (you know Tom Reynouos — 

Drinks his claret, keeps his chaise — 
Lucky the dog that first unkennels 
Traitors and Luddites now-a-days ; 



53 



Or who can help to bag a few. 

When S — D th wants a death or two j ) 

Reynolds and I, and some few more. 

All men, like us, of information^ 
Friends, whom his Lordship keeps in store. 

As w/7c?er-saviours of the nation — * 
Have form'd a Club this season, where 
His Lordship sometimes takes the chair, 
And gives us many a bright oration 
In praise of our sublime vocation ; 
Tracing it up to great King Midas, 
Who, though in fable typified as 
A royal Ass, by grace divine 
And right of ears, most asinine, 
Was yet no more, in fact historical. 

Than an exceeding well-bred tyrant ; 

* Lord C.'s tribute to the character of his friend, Mr. Reynolds, 
will long be remembered with equal credit to both. 



54 



And these, his ears, but allegorical. 

Meaning Informers, kept at high rent — * 
Gem'men, who touch'd the Treasury glisteners. 
Like us, for being trusty listeners -, 
And picking up each tale and fragment. 
For royal Midas's green bag meant. 
" *\nd wherefore,'' said this best of Peers, 
'' Should not the R — g — t too have ears,f 
" To reach as far, as long and wide as 
" Those of his model, good King Midas ?" 

* This interpretation of the fable of Midas's ears seems the 
most probable of any, and is thus stated in Hoffmann :— " IlSc 
allegoria sigaificatum, Midara, utpote tjrannura, subauscultatores 
diraittere solitura, per quos, quaecunque per omuera regionem vel 
ficreiit.veldicerentur, cognosceret, nirairumillis uteris aurium vice." 

f Brossette, in a note on this luie of Iioileau, 

" JNIidas, le Roi Midas a des oreilles d'Ane," 
tells us, that " M. Perrault le Medecin voulut faire ^ notre auteur 
un crime d'etat de ce vers, comme d'une maligne allusion au 
Roi." I trust, however, that no one will suspect the line in the 
text of any such indecorous allusion. 



55 



This speech was thought extremely good. 
And (rare for him) was understood — 
Instant we drank '^ The R — g — t's Ears," 
With three times three illustrious cheers. 

That made the room resound like thunder — ' 
'* The R — G — t's Ears, and may he ne'er 
*• From foolish shame, like Midas, wear 

" Old paltry ijoigs to keep them under !" * 
This touch at our old friends, the Whigs, 
Made us as merry all as grigs. 
In short, (I'll thank you not to mention 

These things again) we get on gaily j 
And, thanks to pension and Suspension, 

Our little Club increases daily. 

• It was not under wigs, but tiaras, that King Midas endea- 
voured to conceal these appendages : 

Tempora purpureis tentat velare tiaris. 

Ovid. 
The Noble Giver of the toast, however, had evidently, with hi^ 
usual clearness, confounded King Midas, Mr. Listen, and the 
P e E — g — t together. 



56 



Castlbs, and Oliver, and such, 
Who don't as yet full salary touch. 
Nor keep their chaise and pair, nor buy 
Houses and lands, like Tom and I, 
Of course don't rank with us, salvators, * 
But merely serve the Club as waiters. 
Like Knights, too, we've our collar days, 
(For us, I own, an awkward phrase) 
When, in our new costume adom'd, — 
The R — G — t's buflf-and-blue coats turtCd'^ 
We have the honour to give dinners 

To the chief Rats in upper stations 5 f 
Your W Ys, V NS — half-fledg'd sinners, 

Who shame us by their imitations j 
Who turn, 'tis true — but what of that ? 
Give me the useful ptacA/ng^ Rat j 

• Mr. Fudge and his friends should go by this name — as the 
man who, some years since, saved the late Right Hon. George 
Kose from dro\vning, was ever after called Salvatnr Rosa, 

f This intimacy between the Rats and Informers is just as it 
should be — '* ver6 dulce sodalitioni." 



57 



Not things as mute as Punch, when bought, 
Whose wooden heads are all they've brought ; 
Who, false enough to shirk their friends. 

But too faint-hearted to betray. 
Are, after all their twists and bends. 

But souls in Limbo, damn'd half way. 
No, no, — we nobler vermin are 
A gentis useful as we're rare ; 
'Midst all the things miraculous 

Of which your natural histories brag. 
The rarest must be Rats like us. 

Who let the cat out of the bag. 

Yet still these Tyros in the cause 
Deserve, I own, no small applause ; 
And they're by us receiv'd and treated 
With all due honours — only seated 
In th' inverse scale of their reward. 
The merely jtfomis'd next my Lord ; 



58 



Small pensions then^ and so on, down. 

Rat after rat, they graduate 
Through job, "red ribbon, and silk gown. 

To Chanc'llorship and Marquisate. 
This serves to nurse the ratting spirit ; 
The less the bribe the more the merit. 

Our female gallery's seldom sat in 3 
Your ladies are no friends to ratting. 
Though there, of course, our Patron sends 
Orders '' for Lcwiy L — CH and friends,'* — 
(Or, as his Lordship in a speech 
Once called her, '' Desdbmona L — CH ;" 
A name to which her title's plain — 
'* Sir, she can turn and turn again.") 
Our music's good, you may be sure ; 
My Lord, you know, 's an amateur^-* 

* Hb Lordship, during one of tlic busiest periods of his ^fi- 
iiisterial career, look lessons three times a week from a celebrated 
music- master, rn glee- singing. 



59 



Takes every part with perfect ease. 

Though to the Base by nature suited. 
And J form'd for all, as best may please. 
For whips and bolts, or chords and keys, 
Turns from his victims to his glees, 

And has them both well executed, 
H T — —D, who, tho' no Rat himself^ 

Delights in all such liberal arts. 
Drinks largely to the House of Guelphj 

And superintends the Corni parts. 
While C — NN — G,* who'd hejirst by choice. 
Consents to take an under voice ; 



•This Right Hon. Gentleman ought to give up his present 
aUiance with Lord C, if upon no other principle than that which 
is inculcated in the following arrangement between two Ladies of 
Fashion : 

Says Clarinda, *' though tears it may cost, 

" It is time we should part, tny dear Sue; 
" For your character's totally lost, 
" And / have not sufficient for tico !" 



.M 



60 



And G-— s,* who well that signal knows. 
Watches the Voiti Subifos.f 

In short, as I've already hinted. 

We take, of late, prodigiously j 
But as our Club is somewhat stinted 

For Gentlemen, like Tom and me. 
We'll take it kind if you'll provide 
A few Squireens X from t'other side 3— 
Some of those loyal, cunning elves, 

(We often tell the tale with laughter) 
Who us'd to hide the pikes themselves. 

Then hang the fools who found them after. 
I doubt not you could find us, too. 
Some Orange Parsons that would doj 

• The rapidity of this Noble Lord's transformation, at the same 
instant, into a Lord of the Bed-chamber and an opponent of the 
Catholic Claims, was truly miraculous. 

f Turn instantly — a frequent direction in niusic«books. 

I The Irish diminutive of Squire, 



61 



Among the rest, we've heard of one^ 
The Reverend — something — Hamilton, 
Who stuff'd a figure of himself 

(Delicious thought ! ) and had it shot at. 
To bring some Papists to the shelf. 

That couldn*t otherwise be got at — 
If he'll but join th' Association, 
We'll vote him in by acclamation. 

And now, my brother,, guide, and friend. 
This somewhat tedious scrawl must end. 
I've gone into this long detail. 

Because I saw your nerves were shaken 
With anxious fears lest I should fail 

In this new, loyal, course I've taken. 
But, bless your heart ! you need not doubt — > 
We, Fudges, know what we're about. 
Look round, and say if you can see 
A much more thriving family. 



62 



There's JaCK^ the Doctor — night and day 

Hundreds of patients so besiege him, 
You*d swear that all the rich and gay 

Fell sick on purpose to oblige him. 
And while they think, the precious ninnies. 

He's counting o'er their pulse so steady. 
The rogue but counts how many guineas 

He*s fobb'd, for that day's work, already. 
I'll ne*er forget th' old maid's alarm, 

When, feeling thus Miss Sukey Flirt, he 
Said, as he dropp'd her shrivell'd arm, 

**^ Damn'd bad this morning— only thirty!' 

Your dowagers, too, every one. 

So gen'rous are, when they call him in. 

That he might now retire upon 

The rheumatisms of three old women. 

Then, whatsoe'er your ailments are. 
He can so learnedly explain ye 'em — 



63 



Your cold, of course, is a catarrh, 

Your head-ach is a hemi-cranium ;— 
His skill, too, in young ladies' lungs, 

The grace with which, most mild of men. 
He begs them to put out their tongues, 

Then bids them — put them in again ! 
In short, there's nothing now like Jack ;— 

Take all your doctors, great and small. 
Of present times and ages back, 

Dear Doctor Fudge is worth them all. 

So much for physic — then, in law too. 
Counsellor Tim ! to thee we bow 5 

Not one of us gives more eclat to 

Th' immortal name of Fudge than thou. 

Not to expatiate on the art 

With which you play'd the patriot's part. 

Till something good and snug should, offer j*- 
Like one, who, by the way he acts 



64 



Th' enligktemng part of candle-snufer. 

The manager's keen eye attracts. 
And is promoted thence by him 
To strut in robes, like thee, my TiM !— 
fVho shall describe thy pow'rs efface, 
Thy well-fee'd zeal in every case. 
Or wrong or right — but ten times warmer 
(As suits thy calling) in the former — 
Thy glorious, lawyer-like delight 
In puzzling all that's clear and right, 
^Vhich, though conspicuous in thy youth. 

Improves so with a wig and band on. 
That all thy pride's to way-lay Truth, 

And leave her not a leg to stand on.— 
Thy patent, prime, morality, — 

Thy cases, cited from the Bible — 
Thy candour, when it falls to thee 

To help in trouncing for a libel j — 



65 

" God knows, "I^ from my soul, profess 

** To hate all bigots and benighters ! 
" God knows, I love, to ev'n excess, 
*^ The sacred Freedom of the Press, 

'* My only aim's to — crush the writers." 
These are the virtues, TiM, that draw 

The briefs into thy bag so fast ; 
And these, oh Tim — if Law be Law — 

Will raise thee to the Bench at last. 

I blush to see this letter's length, — 

But 'twas my wish to prove to thee 
How full of hope, and wealth, and strength. 

Are all our precious family. 
And, should affairs go on as pleasant 
As, thank the Fates, they do at present — 
Should we but still enjoy the sway 

F 



66 



Of S— DM— H and of C Ch, 

I hope, ere long, to see the day 

When England's wisest statesmen, judges. 

Lawyers, peers, will all be — Fudges ! 

Good bye — my paper's out so nearly, 
I've only room for 

Yours sincerely. 



LETTER VJI 



EROM PHELIM CONNOR TO 



Bbforb we sketch the Present — ^let us cast 
A few, short, rapid glances to the Past. 

WTxen he, who had defied all Europe's strength. 
Beneath his own weak rashness eunk at length ; — 
When, loos'd, as if by magic, from a chain 
That seem'd like Fate's, the world was free again. 
And Europe saw, rejoicing in the sight, 
The cause of Kings,^r once, the cause of Right 3 — 

F2 



riMMHBttsa&5Ss;^:x^ 



68 



Then was, indeed, an hour of joy to those 
Who sigh'd for justice — ^liberty — repose^ 
And hop'd the fall of one great vulture's nest 
Would ring its warning round, and scare the rest. 
And all was bright with promise ; — Kings began 
To own a sympathy with suffering Man, 
And Man was grateful — ^Patriots of the South 
Caught wisdom from a Cossack Emperor's mouth. 
And heard^ like accents thaw*d in Northern air. 
Unwonted words of freedom burst forth there ! 

Who did not hope, in that triumphant time. 
When monarchs, after years of spoil and crime. 
Met round the shrine of Peace, and Heav*n look'd 

on. 
Who did not hope the lust of spoil was gone ; — 
That that rapacious spirit, which had play'd 
The game of Pilnitz o'er so oft, was laid, 



69 



I And Europe's Rulers, conscious of the past. 
Would blush, and deviate into right at last ? 
But no— the hearts, that nurs'd a hope so fair, 

I Had yet to learn what men on thrones can dare ; 
Had yet to know, of all earth's ravening things, 

j The only quite untameable are Kings ! 

i Scarce had they niet when, to its nature true. 
The instinct of their race broke out anew j 
Promises, treaties, charters, all were vain. 
And ''Rapine ! — rapine!" was the cry again. 
How quick they carv'd their victims, and how well. 
Let Saxony, let injur'd Genoa tell, — 
Let all the human stock that, day by day. 
Was at that Royal slave-mart truck'd away,— 
The million souls that, in the face of heaven. 
Were split to fractions,* barter'd, sold, or given 

* " Whilst the Congress was re-constructing Europe— not ac- 
cording to rights, natural affiances, language, habits, or laws; but 



warn 



70 



To swell some despot Power, too huge before, i 

And weigh down Europe with one Mammoth more ! j 

How safe the faith of Kings let France decide ; — ' 

Her charter broken, ere its ink had dried, — \ 

Her Press enthrall'd — her Reason mock'd again I 

With all the monkery it had spum'd in vain — ! 

Her crown disgrac'd by one, who dar'd to own 

He thank'd not France but England for his throne — ] 

Her triumphs cast into the shade by those, j 

Who had grown old among her bitterest foes, ] 

And now returned, beneath her conquerors* shields, I 

i 
Unblushing slaves ! to claim her heroes' fields, } 

To tread down every trophy of her fame, I 

I 
And curse that glory which to them was shame ! — ] 

by tables of finance, which divided and subdivided her population i 
into souh, demi-souls, and even fractions, according to a scale of 
the direct duties or taxes, which could be levied by the acquliing 
state," &c. — Sketch of the Military and Political Power of Russia. 
The words on the protocol are atnes, demi-ames, &c. 



71 



Let these — let all the damning deeds, that then 
I Were dar'd through Europe, cry aloud to men. 
With voice like that of crashing ice that rings 
Round Alpine huts, the perfidy of Kings ; 
And tell the world, when hawks shall harmless bear 
The shrinking dove, when wolves shall learn to 

spare 
The helpless victim for whose blood they lusted. 
Then, and then only, monarchs may be trusted ! 

I It could not last — these horrors could not last — 
France would herself have ris'n, in might, to cast 
Th' insuliers oflf — and oh ! that then, as now. 
Chain' d to some distant islet's rocky brow. 
Napoleon ne*er had come to force, to blight, 
Ere half matur'd, a cause so proudly bright j — 
To palsy patriot hearts with doubt and shame. 
And write on Freedom's flag a despot's namej — 



■i 



72 



To rush into the lists, unask'd, alone. 

And make the stake of all the game of one ! 

Then would the world have seen again what power 

A people can put forth in Freedom's hour j 

Then would the fire of France once more have 

blazMj— 
For every single sword, reluctant rais'd 
In the stale cause of an oppressive throne. 
Millions would then have leap'd forth in her own ; 
And never, never had th' unholy stain 
Of Bourbon feet disgrac'd her shores again ! 

But fate decreed not so — th' Imperial Bird, 
That, in his neighbouring cage, unfear'd, unstirr'd, \ 
Had seem*d to sleep with head beneath his wing. 
Yet watch' d the moment for a daring spring ; — 
Well might he watch, when deeds were done, that 

made 
His own transgressions whiten in their shade ; 



73 



Well might he hope a world, thus trampled o*er 
By clumsy tyrants, would be his once more : — 
Forth from its cage that eagle burst to light. 
From steeple on to steeple* wing'd its flight. 
With calm and easy grandeur, to that throne 
From which a Royal craven just had flown ; 
And resting there, as in its aerie, furl'd 
Those wings, whose very rustling shook the world! 

What was your fury then, ye crownM array. 

Whose feast of spoil, whose plundering holiday 

Was thus broke up, in all its greedy mirth. 

By one bold chieftain's stamp on Gallic earth ! 

Fierce was the cry, and fulminant the ban,— 

" Assassinate, who will — enchain, who can, 

'' The vile, the faithless, outlaw'd, low-born man!'* 

* *' L'aigle volera de clocher en clocher, jusqu'aux tours de 
Notre-Dame.'* — Napoleon's Proclamation on landing from Elb*. 



1 



74 



'' Faithless !'*— and this from you — from you, for- 

soothj 
Ye pious Kings, pure paragons of truth. 
Whose honesty all knew, for all had tried ; 
Whose true Swiss zeal had serv'd on every side j 
Whose fame for breaking faith so long was known. 
Well might ye claim the craft as all your own. 
And lash your lordly tails, and fume to see 
Such low-born apes of Royal perfidy ! 
Yes — yes— to you alone did it belong 
To sin for ever, and yet ne'er do wrong — 
The frauds, the lies of Lords legitimate 
Are but fine policy, deep strokes of state 5 
But let some upstart dare to soar so high 
In Kingly craft, and *' outlaw" is the cry ! 
What, though long years of mutual treachery 
Had peopled full your diplomatic shelves 
With ghosts of treaties, murder'd 'mong yourselves > 



75 



Though each by turns was knave and dupe — what 

then? 
A Holy League would set all straight again j 
Like Juno's virtue^ which a dip or two 
In some bless'd fountain made as good as new !* 
Most faithful Russia — faithful to whoe'er 
Could plunder best, and give him amplest share 5 
Who, ev'n when vanquished, sure to gain his ends. 
For want oijbes to rob, made free w\t\\ friends, f 
And, deepening still by amiable gradations. 
When foes were strip t of all, then fleec'd relations ! % 
Most mild and saintly Prussia — steep'd to th' ears 
In persecuted Poland's blood and tears, 

* Singulis annis in quodam Atticae fonte lota virginitatem recu- 
perasse fingitur. 

t At the Peace of Tilsit, where he abandoned his ally, Prussia, 
to France, and received a portion of her territory. 

J The seizure of Finland from his relative of Sweden, 



76 



And now, with all her harpy wings outspread 
O'er sever'd Saxony's devoted head ! 
Pure Austria too — whose hist'ry nought repeats 
But broken leagues and subsidized defeats j 
Whose faith, as Prince, extinguish'd Venice shows. 
Whose faith, as man, a widow'd daughter knows ! 
And thou, oh England — who, though once as shy 
As cloister*d maids, of shame or perfidy. 

Art now broke in, and, thanks to C gh. 

In all that's worst and falsest lead'st the way ! 

Such was the pure divan, whose pens and wits 
Th' escape from Elba frighten'd into fits 3 — 
Such were the saints, who doom'd Napoleon's life. 
In virtuous frenzy, to th' assassin's knife ! 
Disgusting crew ! — luho would not gladly fly 
To open, downright, bold-fac'd tyranny. 
To honest guilt, that dares do all but lie. 



.J 



77 



From the false^ juggling craft of men like these. 
Their canting crimes and varnish'd villanies 5— 
These Holy Leaguers, who then loudest boast 
Of faith and honour, when they've stain'd them 

most; 
Prom whose affection men should shrink as loath 
As from their hate, for they'll be fleec'd by both ; 
Who, ev*n while plund'ring, forge Religion's name 
To frank their spoil, and, without fear or shame. 
Call down the Holy Trinity* to bless 
Partition leagues, and deeds of devilishness ! 

* The usaal preamble of these flagitious compacts. In the same 
spirit, Catherine, after the dreadful massacre of Warsaw, ordered 
a solemn " thanksgiving to God in all the churches, for the bless- 
ings conferred upon the Poles f and commanded that each of them 
should *' swear fidelity and loyalty to her, and to shed in her de- 
fence the last drop of their blood, as they should answer for it to 
God, and his terrible judgment, kissing the holy word and cross 
of their Saviour!" 



78 



But hold— enough— soon would this swell of rage 
O'erflow the boundaries of my scanty page, — 
So, here I pause — farewell — another day 
Return we to those Lords of pray'r and prey, 
Whose loathsome cant, whose frauds by right divine 
Deserve a lash — oh ! weightier far than mine 1 



LETTER VIII. 



FROM MR. BOB FUDG^ TO RICHARD , ESQ. 

Dear Dick, while old Donaldson's* mending 

my stays, — 
Which I knetv would go smash with me one of these 

days. 
And, at yesterday's dinner, when, full to the throttle. 
We lads had begun our desert with a bottle 
Of neat old Constantia, on mi/ leaning back 
Just to order another, by Jove I went crack ! — 
• An English tailor at Paris. 



80 



Or, as honest Tom said, in his nautical phrase, 

" D — n my eyes, Bob, in doubling the Cape you've 

missed stays*'* 
So, of course, as no gentleman's seen out without 

them, 
They*re now at the Schneider's f — and, while he*s 

about them. 
Here goes for a letter, post-haste, neck and crop- 
Let us see— in my last I was — where did I stop ? 
Oh, I know — at the Boulevards, as motley a road a» 

Man ever would wish a day's lounging upon ; 
With its cafes and gardens, hotels and pagodas. 

Its founts, and old Counts sipping beer in the sun : 
With its houses of all architectures you please. 
From the Grecian and Gothic, Dick, down by degree* 
To the pure Hottentot, or the Brighton Chinese ; 

• A ship is said to miss stays, when she do«s not obey the hel» 
in tacking. 

t The dandy term for a tailor. 



I 



I 



81 



Where in temples antique you may breakfast or 
dinner it, 

Lunch at a mosque, and see Punch from a minaret. 

Then, Dick,, the mixture of bonnets and bowers. 

Of foliage and frippery, ^tfcres and flowers, 

Green- grocers, green gardens — one hardly knows 
whether 

'Tis country or town, they're so mess'd up together ! 

And there, if one loves the romantic, one sees 

Jew clothes-men, like shepherds, reclin'd under 
trees j 

Or Quidnuncs, on Sunday, just fresh from the bar- 
ber's. 

Enjoying their news and groseille* in those arbours, 

• " Lemonade and eau-de-groseille are measured out at every 
corner of every street, from fantastic vessels, jingling with bells, 
to thirsty tradesmen or wearied messengers." — See Lady Mor- 
gan's lively description of the streets of Paris, in her very amusing 
work upon France, Book 6. 



^ 



While gaily their wigs, like the tendrils, are curling, f j 

And founts of red currant -juice* round them are i 

purling. J 

I 

Here, DicKj arm in arm as we chattering stray, j 

And receive a few civil "^ God-dems" by the way, — i 

For, 'tis odd, these mounseers, — though we've I 

wasted our wealth j 

And our strength, till we've thrown ourselves | 

into a phthisic, j 

To cram down their throats an old King for their { 

health, I 

As we whip little children to make them take j 

physic ;— i 

i 

Yet, spite of our good-natur'd money and slaughter, < 

They hate us, as Beelzebub hates holy-water ! 

* These gay, portable fountains, from which the groseillc water I 

is administered, are among the most characteristic ornaments of the | 

streets of Paris. \ 



83 



But who the deuce cares, Dick, as long as they 

nourish us 
Neatly as now, and good cookery flourishes- 
Long as, by bay'nets protected, we, Natties, 
May have our full fling at their salmis oadpatSs ? 
And, truly, I always declared 'twould be pity 
To burn to the ground such a choice-feeding city : 
Had Dad but his way, he'd have long ago blown 
The whole batch to old Nick — and the people, I 

own. 
If for no other cause than their curst monkey 

looks, 
Well deserve a blow-up — ^but then, damn it, their 

Cooks ! 
As to Marshals, and Statesmen, and all their whole 

lineage, 
For aught that / care, you may knock them to 

spinage ; 

g2 



84 



But thinks Dick, their Cooks — what a loss to man- 
kind! 
What a void in the world would their art leave 

behind ! 
Their chronometer spits — their intense salamanders — 
Their ovens — their potS;, that can soften old ganders. 
All vanish'd for ever — their miracles o'er, 
And the Mar mite Perpetuelle* bubbling no morel 
Forbid it, forbid it, ye Holy Allies, 
Take whatever ye fancy — take statues, take mo- 
ney — 
But leave them, oh leave them their Perigord pies. 
Their glorious goose-livers, and high pickled 
tunny ! f 

* " Cette merveilleuse Marmite Perpetuelle, sur le feu depuis 
pres d'un siecle j qui a donne le jour a plus de 300,000 chapous." 
— Alman. de Gourmands, Quatri^me Annee, p. 152. 

t Le thon marine, one of the most favourite and indigestible 
horSf-d*oBuvres. This fish is taken chiefly in the GoWe de Lyon. 



85 



Though many, I own, are the evils they've brought us. 
Though Royalty's here on her very last legs^ 

Yet, who can help loving the land that has taught us 
Six hundred and eighty-five ways to dress eggs ?* 

You see, Dick, in spite of their cries of *^ God-dam/' 
** Coquin Anglais," et caet'ra— how generous I am! 
And now (to return, once again, to my " Day," 
Which will take us all night to get through in this 

way) 
From the Boulevards we saunter through many a 
I street. 

Crack jokes on the native? — mine, all very neat- 
Leave the Signs of the Times to political fops. 
And find twice as much fun in the Signs of the Shops y — 

" La tete et le dessous du ventre sont les parties les plus recher- 
chees des gourmets." — Cours Gastronomique, p. 252. 

* The exact number mentioned by M, de la Rejniere — " On 
connoit en France 685 mani^res diiFerentes d'accommoder les 
ceuls; sans coropteF celles que nos savans imagineut chaque jova-.'* 



86 



Here, a Louis Dix-huit — there, a Martinmas goose, | 

(Much in vogue since your eagles are gone out of j 

use) — I 

Henri Quatres in shoals, and of Gods a great many, j 

But Saints are the most on hard duty of any: — I 

St. Tony, who us'd all temptations to spurn, i 
Here hangs o'er a beer-shop, and tempts in his turn ; 

While there St. Venecia* sits hemming and frilling i 

her f 

Holy mouchoir o'er the door of some miUiner ; — j 

Saint Austin's the " outward and visible sign \ 

Of an inward" cheap dinner, and pint of small wine ; j 

While St. Dbnys hangs out o*er some hatter of ton, \ 

And possessing, good bishop, no head of his own,t < 

Takes an int'rest in Dandies, who've got — next to j 

none ! 

* Veronica, the Saint of the Holy Handkerchief, is also, under \ 

the name of Venisse or Venecia, the tutelary saint of milliners. ' 

f 

f St. Denys walked three miles after his head was cut off. The i! 



i 
I \ 



87 



Then we stare into shops — read the evening's of- 

Jiches — 

Or^, if some, who're Lotharios in feeding, should wish 
Just to flirt with a luncheon, (a devilish bad trick. 
As it takes oflf the bloom of one's appetite, Dick,) 
To the Passage des — what d'ye call't — des Panoramas* 
We quicken our pace, and there heartily cram as 
Seducing young fates, as ever could cozen 
One out of one's appetite, down by the dozen. 
We vary, of course — petits fates do one day. 
The next we've our lunch with the Gauffrier Hol- 

landais, f 
That popular artist, who brings out, like Sc — tt. 
His delightful productions so quick, hot and hot ; 

moi of a woman of wit iipon this legend is well known : — " Je le 
crois bien; en pareil cas, il n'y a que le premier pas qui coute." 

* Off the Boulevards Italiens. 

t In the Palais Royal ; successor, I believe, to the Flamand, so 
long celebrated for the mo'elkux of his Gaufres. 



m. 



Not the worse for the exquisite comment that fol- 
lows, — 
"PWinemaresqidno, which. — Lord^how one swallows! 

Once more, then^ we saunter forth after our snackj or 
Subscribe a few francs for the price of 'djiacre. 
And drive far away to the old Montagues Russes, 
Where we find a few twirls in the car of much use 
To regen'rate the hunger and thirst of us sinners. 
Who've laps'd into snacks — the perdition of dinners. 
And here, Dick — in answer to one of your queries. 
About which we. Gourmands, have had much 

discussion — 
I've tried aU these mountains, Swiss, French, and 

Ruggieri's, 
And think, for digestion* there's none like the 

Russian ; 

• Doctor Cotteiel recomraeuds, for this purpose, the Beaujon or 
1' reach Mouiitams, and calls them *' upe luedeclce aerienne, coi*- 






l^J 



89 



So equal the motion — so gentle, though fleet — 

It, in short, such a light and salubrious scamper is. 
That take whom you please — take old L — s D — ^x- 

H— T, 

. And stuff him — ay, up to the neck — ^with stew'd 

lampreys, * 
So wholesome these Mounts, such a solvent I've 

found them, 
That, let me but rattle the Monarch well down them, 

leur de rose;" but I own I prefer the authority of Mr. Bob, who 
seems, from the follawuig .note found in his own. iiand-writing, to 
have studied all these mountains very carefully : 
Memoranda — The Swiss little nt tice deserves. 
While the fall at Ruggieri's is death to weak nerves ; 

• And (whate'er Doctor Cott'rel may write on the question) 
The turn at the Beaujon's too sharp for digestion. 

I doubt whether Mr. Bob is quite correct in accenting the second 
syllable of Ruggieri. 

* A dish so indigestible, that a late novelist, at the end of hi& 
book, could imagine no more summary mode of getting rid of all 
his heroes and heroines than by a hearty supper of stewed lam- 
preys. 



90 



The fiend, Indigestion, would fly far away, | 

And the regicide lampreys* be foiled of their prey! j 

I 

Such, Dick, are the classical sports that content us, ' 

Till five o'clock brings on that hour so momentous, j 

That epoch but woa ! my lad — here comes the \ 

Schneider, ^ 

And, curse him, has made the stays three inches j 

wider — \ 

Too wide by an inch and a half — what a Guy ! j 

But, no matter— 'twill all be set right by-and-by — ' 

As we've MASSiNOx'sf eloquent carte to eat still ) 

up, 

An inch and a halfs but a trifle to fill up, i 

* They killed Henry I. of England : — " a food (says Hume, i 

gravely,) which always agreed better with his palate than his « 

constitution." i 

t A famous Restaurateur — now Dupont. 



91 



So — not to lose time, Dick — here goes for the task ; 
Au revoir, my old boy — of the Gods I but ask. 
That my life, like '^ the Leap of the German," * 

may be, 
'* Du lit ^ la table, d'la table au lit !" 

R.F. 



* An old French sayings — " Faire le saut de I'Alleraand, du 
lit a la table et de la table au lit." 



LETTER IX. 

FROM PHIL. FUDGE, ESQ. TO THE LORD VISCOUNT 
C ST GH. 

AIy Lord, th' Instructions, brought to-day, 
" I shall in all my best obey." 
Your Lordship talks and writes so sensibly ! 
And — whatsoe'er some wags may say — 
Oh ! not at all incomprehensibly. 

I feel th' inquiries in your letter 

About my health and French most flattering ; 
Thank ye, my French, though somewhat better. 

Is, on the whole, but weak and smattering : — 



93 



Nothing, of course, that can compare 
With his who made the Congress stare, 
(A certain Lord we need not name) 

Who, ev'n in French, would have his trope, 
And talk of " batir un systeme 

" Sur V4quUikre de I'Europe ?' 
Sweet metaphor ! — and then th' Epistle, 
Which bid the Saxon King go whistle. 
That tender letter to '' Mon Prince," * 
Which show'd alike thy French and sense} — 
Oh no, my Lord — there*s none can do 
Or say un-English things like you ; 
And, if the schemes that fill thy breast 

Could but a vent congenial seek. 
And use the tongue that suits them best. 

What charming Turkish would'st thou speak ! 

* The celebrated letter to Prince Hardenburgh (written, however, 
I believe, originally iu English,) in which his Lordship, professing 
to see " no moral or political objection" to the dismemberment of 
Saxony, denounced the unfortunate King as " not only the most 
devoted, but the most favoured of Bonaparte's vassals.'* 



94 



But as for me, a Frenchless grub. 

At Congress never born to stammer, 
Nor learn like thee, my Lord, to snub 

Fall'n Monarchs, out of Chambaud's gfam- 
mar — 
Bless 3'ou, you do not, cannot know 
How far a little French will go ; 
For aU one's stock, one need but draw 

On some half dozen words like these — 
Comme qa — par-la — la-has — ah ha ! 

They'll take you all through France with ease. 

Your Lordship's praises of the scraps 
1 sent you from my Journal lately, 

(Enveloping a few lacM caps 
For Lady C.) delight me greatly. 

Her flattering speech—''^ what pretty things 
One finds in Mr. Fudge's pages!" 



i J 



d5 

Is praise which (as some poet sings) 
Would pay one for the toils of ages. 

Thus flatter'd, I presume to send 
A few more extracts by a friend ; 
And I should hope they'll be no less 
Approv'd of than my last MS. — 
The former ones^ I fear, were creas'd. 

As Biddy round the caps would pin them^ 
But these will come to hand^ at least 

Unrumpled, for — there's nothing in them. 



Extracts from Mr. Fudge s Journal, addressed to 
Lord C. 

Aug. 10. 

Went to the Mad-house — saw the man, * 

Who thinks^ poor wretch, that, while the Fiend 

• This extraordinary madman is, I believe, in the Bicetre. He 
, imagines, exactly as Mr. Fudge states it, that, when the heads of 



96 



Of Discord here full riot ran. 

He, lik€ the rest, was guillotin'd 5 — 
But that when, under Boney's reign, 

(A more discreet, though quite as strong one; 
The heads were all restor'd again. 

He, in the scramble, got a wrong one. 
Accordingly, he still cries out 

This strange head fits him most unpleasantly ; 
And always runs, poor dev'l, about, 

Inquiring for his own incessantly ! 

While to his case a tear I dropt. 

And saunter'd home, thought I — ye Gods ! 
How many heads might thus be swopp'd. 

And, after all, not make much odds ! 
For instance, there's V— s— tt — t's head — 
(*' Tarn carum^'* it may well be said) 

those who had been guillotined were restored, he by mistake got 
some other person's instead of his own. 
* Tam can capitis. — Horat. 



.J 



I. 



97 



If by some curious chance it came 

To settle on Bill Soames*s* shoulders^ 
Th* eflfect would turn out much the same 

On all respectable cash-holders : 
Except that while, in its nexv socket. 

The head was planning schemes to win 
A zig'Zag way into one's pocket. 

The hands would plunge directly in. 

Good Viscount S — hm — h, too, instead 
Of his own grave, respected head. 
Might wear (for aught I see that bars) 

Old Lady Wilhelmina Frump's — 
So while the hand sign'd Circulars ^ 

The head might lisp out '' What is trumps V 
The R — G — T^s brains could we transfer 
To some robust man-milliner, 

♦ A celebrated pickpocket. 

H 



98 



The shop^ the shears, the lace, and ribboa. 
Would go, I doubt not, quite as glib on j 
And, vice versa^ take the pains 
To give the P — ce the shopman's brains,^ 
One only change from thence would flow. 
Ribbons would not be wasted so ! 

'Twas thus I ponder'd on, my Lord; 

And, ev'n at night, when laid in bed, 
I found myself, before I snor'd, 

Thus chopping, swopping head for head. 
At length I thought, fantastic elf ! 
How such a change would suit mi/self, 
'Twixt sleep and waking, one by one. 

With various pericraniums saddled, 
At last I tried your Lordship's on. 

And then I grew completely addled — 
Forgot all other heads, od rot 'era ! 
And slept, and dreamt that I was — Bottom .' 



99 



Jug. 2 1 . 
AV^alk'd out with daughter Bid — was shown 
The Hoiise of Commons, and the Throne, 
Whose velvet cushion's just the same * 
Napoleon sat on — what a shame ! 
Oh, can we wonder, best of speechers ! 

When Louis seated thus we see. 
That France's ^* fundamental featured" 

Are much the same they us'd to be ? 
However, — God i)reserve the Throne, 

Arid cushion too — and keep them free 
From accidents, which have been known 

To happen ev*n to Royalty ! f 

* The only change, if I recollect right, is the substitution of 
lilies for bees. This war upon the bees is, of course, universal 
'.'exitiura misere apibus," like the angry nymphs in Virgil: — 
but may not new sicarms arise out of the victims of Legitimacy yet? 
, f I am afraid that Mr. Fudge alludes here to a very awkward 
accident, which is well known to have happened to poor L— s le 
D— s — e, some years since, at one of the R — g— t's Fetes. He 
was, silting next our gracious Queen at the time. 

H 2 



100 

Jug. 28. 
Read, at a stall, (for oft one pops 
On something at these stalls and shops. 
That does to quote, and gives one*s Book 
A classical and knowing look, — 
Indeed I've found, in Latin, lately, 
A course of stalls improves me greatly.) 
'Twas thus I read, that, in the East, 

A monarch*s/a^*s a serious matter ; 
And once in every year, at least, 

He*s weigh'd — to see if he gets fatter : * 
Then, if a pound or two he be 
Increas'd, there's quite a jubilee ! f 

• *' The 3rd day of the Feast the King caaseth himself to be 
weighed with great care."— F. Bemicr's Voyage to Sural, 8(c. 

f " I remember," says Bernier, " that all the Omrabs ex- 
pressed great joy that the King weighed two pounds more now 
than the year preceding." — Another author tells us that " Fatness, 
as well as a very large head, is considered, throughout India, as 
one of the most precious gifts of heaven. An enormous skull is 
absolutely revered, and the liappy owner is looked up to as a 



101 

Suppose, my Lord,— and far from me 
To treat such things with levity — 
But just suppose the R — g — t'S weight 
Were made thus an affair of state ; 
And, ev'ry sessions, at the close, — 

'Stead of a speech, which, all can see, is 
Heavy and dull enough, God knows— 

We were to try how heavy he is. 
Much would it glad all hearts to hear 

That, while the Nation's Revenue 
Loses so many pounds a year, 

The P B, God bless him ! gains a few. 

With bales of muslin, chintzes, spices, 
I see the Easterns weigh their Kings j — 

But, for the R — G — T, my advice is. 

We should throw in much heavier things : 

superior being. To a Prince a joulter liead is invaluable. 
Oriental Field Sports. 



H 



102 

For instance — 's quarto volumes^ 

Whichj though not spices^ serve to wrap them ; 
Dominie St — dd — t's Daily columns, 

^^ Prodigious ! " — ^in, of course, we'd clap them — 
Letters, that C — rtw t*s pen indites. 

In which, with logical confusion. 
The Major like a Minor writes. 

And never comes to a Conclusion : — 
Lord S — M — Rs' pamphlet — or his head — 
(Ah, that were worth its weight in lead !) 
Along with which we in may whip, sly. 
The Speeches of Sir John C — x H — pp — sly 3 
That Baronet of many words, * 

Who loves so, in the House of Lords, 
To whisper Bishops— and so nigh 

Unto their wigs in whisp'ring goes. 
That you may always know him by 

A patch of powder on his nose ! — 



103 

If this won't do, we in must cram 

The *' Reasons" of Lord B — CK — 6H— M 3 

(A Book his Lordship means to write. 

Entitled ^' Reasons for my Ratting :") 
Or, should these prove too small and lights 

His 's a host—- we'll bundle that in ! 

And, still should all these masses fail 
To stir the R — g— t's ponderous scale. 
Why th«i, my Lord, in heaven's name. 

Pitch in, without reserve or stint. 
The whole of R — gl — y's beauteous Dame — 

If that won't raise him, devil's in't ! 



Aug.^l. 
Consulted Murphy's Tacitus 

About those famous spies at Rome, * 

* The name of the first worthy who set up the trade of informer 
at Rome (to whom our Olivers and Castleses ought to erect a statue) 
was Ronianus Hispo ; — " qui formam vitaj iniit, quam postea cele- 



104 

Whom certain Whigs — ^o make a fuss — 
Describe as much resembling us,* 
Informing gentlemen, at home. 
But, bless the fools, they can't be serious. 
To say Lord S — dm — ^th's like Tibkrius ! 
What! he, the Peer, that injures no man. 
Like that severe, blood-thirsty Roman ! — 
'Tis true, the Tyrant lent an ear to 
All sorts of spies — so doth the Peer, too. 
'Tis true my Lord's Elect tell fibs. 
And deal in perj'ry — ditto Tib's. 
'Tis true, the Tyrant screen'd and hid 
His rogues from justice f — ditto Sid. 

brero miseriae temporum et audaciae horainum fecerunt.'' — Tacit. 
Annal. 1, 74. 

* They certainly possessed the same art of instigating their vic- 
tims, which the Report of the Secret Committee attributes to Lord 
Sidmouth's agents : — " tocius (says Tacitus of one of them) libidi- 
uum et uecessitatum, quo pluribus indiciis inligaret." 

■f " Neqae tameu id Sereno noxs fuit, quern odmm fuhlxaan tu- 



105 

*Tis true the Peer is grave and glib 
At moral speeches — ditto Tib. * 
'Tis true, the feats the Tyrant did 
Were in his dotage — ditto Sid. 

So far, I own, the parallel 

'Twixt Tib and Sid goes vastly well; 

But there are points in Tib that strike 

My humble mind as much more like 

Yourself, my dearest Lord, or him 

Of th' India Board — that soul of whim ! 

tioremfaciebat. Nam ut quis districtior accusator velut sacrosanctus 
erat.** Anna). Lib. 4, 36,— Or, as it is translated by Mr. Fudge's 
friend, Murphy : — " This daring accuser had the curses of the 
pe(yple, and the jyrotection of the Emperor. Informers, in propor- 
tion as they rose in guilt, became sacred characters.^' 

* Murphy even confers upon one of his speeches tlie epithet 
" constitutional." Mr. Fudge might have added to his parallel, 
that Tiberius was a good private character : — ♦' cgregiara vita 
faraaque quoad jmvatus." 



aaa^s^am^ 



106 

Like him^ Tiberius lov'd his joke, * 

On matters, too, where few can bear one ; 
E» g. a man, cut up, or broke 

Upon the wheel — a devilish fair one I 
Your common fractures, wounds, and fits. 
Are nothing to such wholesale wits ; 
But, let the suiF'rer gasp for life. 

The joke is then worth .any money j 
And, if he writhe beneath a knife, — 

Oh dear, that's something quite too funny. 
In this respect, my Lord, you see 
The Roman wag and ours agree : 
Now as to your resemblance — mum — 

This parallel we need not follow 3 f 

♦ " Ludibria seriis permiscere solitus." 

+ There is one point of resemblance between Tiberius and Lord 
C. which Mr. Fudge might have mentioned—" suspensa iemper et 
obscura verba.'^ 



107 

Though 'tis, in Ireland, said by some 
Your Lordship beats Tiberius hollow y 

Whips, chains— but these are things too. serious 
For me to mention or discuss -, 

Whene'er your Lordship acts Tiberius^ 
Phil. Fuj)Ge's part is Tacitus f 

Sept. 2. 
Was thinking, had Lord S — dm — th got 
Up any decent kind of Plot 
Against the winter-time — ^^if not, 
Alas, alas, our ruin's fated ; 
All done up, and spijlkated ! 
Ministers and all their vassals, 

Down from C — tl gh to Castles, — 

Unless we can kick up a riot, 
Ne'er can hope for peace or quiet \ 



iiiMMHlMittllli 



108 

What's to be done ? — Spa-Fields was clever j 

But even that brought gibes and mockings 
Upon our heads — so, mem. — must never 

Keep ammunition in old stockings j 
For fear some wag should in his curst head 
Take it to say our force was %corsted, 
Mem. too — when Sid. an army raises. 
It must not be *^ incog." like Bayes's : 
Nor must the General be a hobbling 
Professor of the art of Cobbling j 
Lest men, who perpetrate such puns, 

Should say, with Jacobinic grin. 
He felt, from soleing Welliiigtons, * 

A Wellington's great soul within ! 
Nor must an old Apothecary 

Go take the Tower, for lack of pence, 

* Short boots, so called. 



109 

With (what these wags would call, so merry) 

Physical force and phial-ence I 
No— no — our Plot^ my Lord, must be 
Next time contrived more skilfully. 
John Bull, I grieve to say, is growing 
So troublesomely sharp and knowing. 
So wise — in short, so Jacobin — 
'Tis monstrous hard to take him in. 

Sept, 6, 
Heard of the fate of our Ambassador 

In China, and was sorely nettled 5 
But think, my Lord, we should not pass it o'er 

Till all this matter's fairly settled ; 
And here's the mode occurs to me :— - 
As none of our Nobility 
(Though for their own most gracious King 
They would kiss hands, or — any thing) 



no 

Can be persuaded to go through 
This farce-like trick of the Ko-tou ; 
And as these Mandarins won't bend^ 

Without some mumming exhibition^ 
Suppose^ my Lord, you were to send 

Grimaldi to them on a mission : 
As Legate Joe could play his part. 
And if, in diplomatic art. 
The '' volto sciolto" * 's meritorious, 
Let Joe but grin, he has it, glorious ! 

A title for him 's easily made ; 

And, by the by, one Christmas time, 
If I remember right, he play'd 

Lord Mo R LEY in some pantomime; — f 

• The ofpen countenance, recommended by Lord Chesterfield'. 

+ Mr. Fudge is a little mistaken here. It was not Grimaldi, but 
^ome very inferior performer, whoplajed this part of *' Lord Mor- 
ley " in the pantomime, — so much to the horror of the distinguished 



Ill 

As Earl of M— rl — Y then gazette him. 
If t'other Earl of M— rl— Y '11 let him. 
(And why should not the world be blest 
With two such stars^ for East and West ?) 
Then^ when before the Yellow Screen 

He's brought — and, sure^ the very essence 
Of etiquette would be that scene 

Of Joe in the Celestial Presence ! — 

He thus should say : — '' Duke Ho and Soo, 

' * I'll play what tricks you please for you, 

** If you'll, in turn, but do for me 

'' A few small tricks you now shall see. 

" If I consult your Emperor's liking, 

'* At least you'll do the same for my King." 

He then should give them nine such grins^, 

As would astound ev'n Mandarins j 

Earl of that name. The expostulatory letters of the Noble Earl 
to Mr. Il-rr-s, upon this vulgar profanation of his spick-and-span- 
new title, will, I trust, some time or other, be given to the worlcl> 



112 

And throw such somersets before 

The picture of King GbORGE (God bless him!) 
As, should Duke Ho but try them o"er, 

Would^ by Confucius, much distress him ! 

I start this merely as a hint. 

But think you'll find some wisdom in't ; 

And, should you follow up the job. 

My son, my Lord, (you know poor Bob) 

Would in the suite be glad to go 

And help his Excellency, Joe j — 

At least, like noble Amh — rst's son. 

The lad will do to practise on. * 

* See Mr Ellis's account of the Erabassy. 



113 



LETTER X. 

FROM MISS BIDDY FUDGE TO MISS DOROTHY . 

^ ELL, it is n't the King, after all, my dear creature ! 
But dorCt you go laugh, now — there's nothing to 
quiz in't — 
For grandeur of air and for grimness of feature. 
He might be a King, Doll, though, hang him, 
he is n't. 
At first, I felt hurt, for I wish'd it, I own. 
If for no other cau«e but to vex Miss Malonb,^ — 

I 



114 

{The great heiress, you know, of Shandangan, who's 

here. 
Showing off with such airs, and a real Cashmere, * 
While mine's but a paltry, old rabbit-skin, dear!) 
But says Pa, after deeply consid'ring the thing, 
*' I am just as well pleas'd it should not be the King; 
*' As I think for my Biddy, so gentUle andjo/te, 
'' Whose charms may their price in an honest way 
fetch, 
'' That a Brandenburgh" — (what w a Brandenburgh, 
Dolly ?)— • 
'' Would be, after all, no such very great catch. 
^' If the R — G — T indeed — " added he, looking sly — 
(You remember that comical squint of his eye) 



♦ See Lady Morgan's " France" for the anecdote, told 
her by Madame de Genlis, of the young gentleman whose lore 
was cured by findhig that his mistress wore a sharwl " peau de 
lapin." 



115 

But I stopped him with " La, Pa, how can you say so> 
*' When the R — g — t loves none but old women, 

you know !" 
Which is fact, my dear Dolly — we, girls of eighteen. 
And so slim — Lord, he'd think us not fit to be seen j 
And would like us much better as old — ay, as old 
As that Countess of Desmond, of whoml've been told 
That she liv'd to much more than a hundred and ten. 
And was kill'd by a fall from a cherry-tree then ! 
What a frisky old girl ! but — to come to my lover. 
Who, though not a King, is a hero I'll swear, — 
You shall hear all that's happen'd, just briefly run 

over, 
' Since that happy night, when we whisk'd through 

the air ! 

Let me see — 'twas on Saturday — j-es, Dolly, yes — 
From that evening I date the first dawn of my bliss 5 

I 2 



m^m^mm 



116 

When we both rattled oflf in that dear little carri^e. 
Whose jaurney, BoB«ays, is so like Love and Marriage, 
" Beginning gay, desperate, dashing, down-hilly, 
*' And ending as dull as a six-inside Dilly !"* 
Well, scarcely a wink did I sleep the night through. 
And, next day, having scribbled my letter to you. 
With a heart full of hope this sweet fellow to meet 
I set out with Papa, to see Louis Dix-huit 
Make his bow to some half-dozen women and boys, 
Who get up a small concert of shrill Vive le Rois — 
And how vastly genteeler, my dear, even this is. 
Than vulgar Pall-Mall's oratorio of hisses ! 
The gardens seem'd full — so, of course, we walk'd 

o'er 'em, 
'Mo ng orange-trees, clipp'd into town-bred decorum. 
And daphnes, and vases, and many a statue 
There staring, with not ev*n a stitch on them, at yon ! 

• The cars, oii the return, are dragged up »lowly by a chain. 



117 

The ponds, too> we view'd — stood awhile on the brink 
To cMitemplate the play of those pretty gold fishes — 

*' Lioe bullion," says merciless Bob, '*^ which, I think, 
'^ Would, if coined, with a little mint sauce, be 
delicious !" 

But iciliaty Dolly, what, is the gay orange-grove. 

Or gold fishes to her that's in search of her love ? 

In vain did I wildly explore every chair 

Where a thing like a man was — no lover sate there ! 

In vain my fond eyes did I eagerly cast 

At the whiskers, mustachios, and wigs that went past, 

To obtain, if I could, but a glance at that curl. 

But a glimpse of those whiskers, as sacred, my girl, 

As the lock that. Pa says,* is to Mussulman giv'n. 

For the angel to hold by that ^"^ lugs them to heaven!" — 

* For this scrap of knowledge " Pa" was, I suspect, indebted 
to a note upon Volney's Ruins ; a book which usually forms part 
of a Jacobin's library, and with which Mr. Fudge must have been 
well acquainted at the time when he wrote his " Down with Kings,' ' 



mm 



in 



lis 

.^as, there went by me full many a quiz. 

And musta Chios in plenty, but nothing like hia ! 

Disappointed, 1 found myself sighing out '' well-a- 

day,"- 
Thought of the words of T — m M — re's Irish Melody, 
Something about the ^' green spot of delight," * 
(Which, you know. Captain Macintosh sung to 

us one day) : 
Ah Dolly, viy *' spot" was that Saturday night. 
And its verdure, how fleeting, had withered by 

Sunday ! 

&c. The note in Volney is as follows: — " It is by thb tuft of 
hair, (on the crown of the head) worn by the majority of Mussul- 
mans, that the Angel of the Tomb is to take the elect and carry 
them to Paradise." 

♦ The young lad^', whose memory is not very correct, most 
allude, I think, to the following lines: — 

Oh that lairy tonu is ne'er forgot, 

Which First Love trac'd ; 
Still it ling'ring haunts the greenest spot 

On Memorv's waste ! 



119 

We din'd at a tavern — La, wltat do I say ? 

If Bob was to know ! — a Restaurateur* s, dear ; 
Where your properest ladies go dine every day. 

And drink Burgundy out oflarge tumblers, like beer. 
Fine Bob (for he's really grown super -fine) 

Condescended, for once, to make one of the party ; 
Of course, though but three, we had dinner for nine, 

And, in spite of my grief, love, I own I eat hearty. 
Indeed, Doll, I know not how 'tis, but, in grief, 
Ihave always found eating a wond'rous relief j 
And Bob, who's in love, said he felt the same, quile^- 
< ""' My sighs," said he,'^ ceasM with the first glass 

1 drank yoTi ; 
* * The lamh made me tranquil, the puffs made me light, 

" And — now that's all o'er — ^why, I'm — pretty 
well, thank you !" 

To my great annoyance, we sat rather late j 
For Bobby and Pa had a furious d ebat« 



I' I ill II ikiilBi MBiir i ^ .v.--^^.^>:=^-^^--^^^=^-^ — r-7T- 



1- -L .. .MlMI^^^^Wf^gP 



120 

About singing and cookery — Bobby, of course. 
Standing up for the latter Fine Art in full force j 
And Pa saying, *' God only knows which is worst, 

" The French singers or cooks, but I wish us well 
over it — 
*' What with old Lais and Ve'ry, Tm curst 

'* If my head or my stomach will ever recover it!" 

'Twas dark, when we got to the Boulevards to stroll, 
And in vain did I look 'mong the street Macaronis, 

When, sudden, it struck me — last hope of my soul — 
That some angel might take the dear man to 

ToRTONl's ! * 

We enter'd — and, scarcely had Bob, with an air. 

For a grappe a la jardiniere call'd to the waiters, 
When, oh Doll ! I saw him — my hero was there, 
(For I knew his Avhite small-clothes and brown 
leather gaiters) 
• A fashiooable caff glacier on the Italian Boulerardf. 



121 

A group of fair statues from Greece smiling o'er him, * 
And lots of red currant-juice sparkling before him ! 
Oh Dolly, these heroes — what creatures they are! 

In the boudoir the same as in fields full of slaughter; 
As cool in the Beaujon's precipitous car, 

As when safe at Tortoni's, o'er ic'd currant- water ! 
He join'd us — imagine, dear creature, my extasy — 
Join'd by the man I'd have broken ten necks to see ! 
Bob wish'd to treat him with Punch a la glaccy 
But the sweet fellow swore that my beaut S, my grace. 
And my je-ne'saiS'Quoi (then his whiskers he twirl'd) 
Were, to him, *'on de top of all Ponch in de vorld." — 
How pretty! — though oft (as, of course, it must be) 
Both his French and his English are Greek, Doll, 

to me. 
But, in short, I felt happy as ever fond heart did ; 
And happier still, when 'twas fix'd, ere we parted, 

• " You eat vour ice at Tortoni's," says Mr. Scott, " under a 
Grecian group." 



f ^ frfi " liii'fMt'MiT^nr'f--"'" '" ' ""' "'" '""ni^Ti^^^MBBMMMBhfa^^B—^^MMMM MMirf'-^^ 



1^ 

That, if the next day should be pastoral weather. 
We all would set off, in French buggies, together. 
To see Montmorency — that place which, you know, 
Isso famous for cherries and JEANJACaUEsRoussEAU. 
His card then he gave us — the namei rather creas'd — 
But 'twas Calicot — something — a Colonel, at least ! 
After which — sure there never was hero so civil — ^he 
Saw us safe home to our door in Rue Rivoli, 
Where his last words, as, at parting, he threw 
A soft look o'er his shoulders, were — '* how do you 
do!"* 

But, lord, — there*s Papa for the post — I'm so vext — 
Montmorency must now, love, be kept for my next. 
That dear Sunday night ! — I was charmingly drest, 
And — so providential ! — was looking my best j 

• Not an uuusual mistake with foreigners. 



123 



j Such a sweet muslin gown, with a flounce — and my 

frills. 
You've no notion how rich — (though Pa has by the 

bills) 
And you'd SHGiile had you seen, when we sat rathernear. 
Colonel Calicot eyeing the cambric, my dear. 
Then the flow'rs in my bonnet — but, la, it's in vain — 
So, good by, my sweet Doll — I shall soon write 

again. B. F. 

Nota bene — our love to all neighbours about— 
Your Papa in particular — how is his gout ? 

P. S. — l*ve just open'd my letter to say. 
In your next you must tell me (now doy Dolly, pray. 
For I hate to ask Bob, he's so ready to quiz) 
What sort of a thing, dear, a Brandcnburgh is. 



124 



LETTER XI. 



FROM PHELIM CONNOR TO 



Yes — 'twas a cause, as noble and as great 
As ever hero died to vindicate — 
A Nation's right to speak a Nation's voice. 
And own no power but of the Nation's choice ! 
Such was the grand, the glorious cause that now 
Hung trembling on Napoleon's single brow j 
Such the sublime arbitrement, that pour'd. 
In patriot eyes, a light around his sword, 
A glory then, which never, since the day 
Of his young victories, had ilium 'd its way ! 



125 

Oh 'twas not then the time for tame debates. 
Ye men of Gaul, when chains were at your gates 5 
When he, who fled before your Chieftain's eye. 
As geese from eagles on Mount Taurus fly, * 
Denounc'd against the land, that spurn'd his chain. 
Myriads of swords to bind it fast again — 
Myriads of fierce invading swords, to track 
Through your best blood his path of vengeance backj 
When Europe's Kings, that never yet combin'd 
But (like those upper Stars, that, when conjoin'd. 
Shed war and pestilence) to scourge mankind. 
Gathered around, with hosts from every shore. 
Hating Napoleon much, but Freedom more. 
And, in that coming strife, appaU*d to see 
The world yet left one chance for liberty !— 

• See JElian, Lib. 5. cap. 29 — who tells us that these geese, 
from a consciousness of their own loquacity, always cross Mount 
Taurus with stones in their bills, to prevent any unlucky cackle 
from betraying them to the eagles — iiaxcrmrca ^iuvMtrt;. 



126 

No, 'twas not then the time to weave a net 

Of bondage round your Chief j to curb and fret 

Your veteran war-horse, pawing for the fight. 

When every hope was in his speed and might — 

To waste the hour of action in dispute. 

And coolly plan how Freedom's houghs should shoot, 

When your Invader's axe was at the root! 

No, sacred Liberty ! that God, who throws 

Thy light around, like his own sunshine, knows 

How well I love thee, and how deeply hate 

All tyrants, upstart and Legitimate — 

Yet, in that hour, were France my native land, 

I would have followed, with quick heart and hand. 

Napoleon, Nero — ay, no matter whom — 

To snatch my country from that damning doom, 

That deadliest curse that on the conquer*d waits — 

A Conqueror's satrap, thron*d within her gates 1 



, J 



^ 



127 

True, he was false — despotic — all you pi 
Had trampled down man*s holiest liberties — 
Had, by a genius, form'd for nobler things 
Than lie within the grasp of vulgar Kings, 
But rais'd the hopes of men — as eaglets fly 
With tortoises aloft into the sky — 
To dash them down again more shatteringly ! 
*A11 this I own—but still * • * 



• Somebody (Fontenelle, I believe) has said, that if he had his 
hand full of truths, he would open but one finger at a time ; and 
I find it necessary to use the same sort of reserve with respect to 
Mr. Phelim Connor's verj' plain-spoken letters. The remainder 
ot thb Epistle is so full of unsafe matter-of-fact, that it must, for 
the present at least, be withheld from the public. 



128 



LETTER XII. 



FROM MI8S BIPDY FUDGE TO MISS DOROTHY 



At last, Dolly, — thanks to a potent emetic. 
Which Bobby and Pa, with grimace sympathetic. 
Have swallowed tliis morning, to balance the blisa 
Of an eel mat dote and a bisque cfecrevisses — 
I've a morning at home to myself, and sit down 
To describe you our heavenly trip out of town. 
How agog you must be for this letter, my dear ! 
Lady Jane, in the novel, less languish'd to hear 
If that elegant cornet she met at Lord Neville's 
Was actually dying with lore or — blue devils. 



I- 



129 

But Love, Dolly, Love is the theme I pursue j 
With Blue Devils,thank heav' n, 1 have nothing to do — 
Except, indeed, dear Colonel Calicot spies 
Any imps of that colour in certain blue eyes. 
Which he stares at till I, Doll, at his da the same ; 
Then he simpers — I blush — and would often exclaim^. 
If I knew but the French for it, *' Lord, Sir, for 
shame!" 

W^ell, the morning was lovely— the trees in full dress 
For the happy occasion — the sunshine express — 
Had we order'd it, dear, of the best poet going. 
It scarce could be fumish'd more golden and glowing. 
Though late when we started, the scent of the air 
\V^as like Gattie's rose-water— and, bright, here 

and there. 
On the grass an odd dew-drop was glittering yet. 
Like my aunt*s diamond pin on her gjeen tabbinet! 

K 



130 

And the birds seem'd to warble as blest on the 

boughs. 
As if each a plum*d Calicot had for her spouse j 
And the grapes were all blushing and kissing in rows, 
And^in short, need I tell you, wherever one goes 
With the creature one loves, 'tis all couleur de rose ; 
And, ah, I shall ne'er, liv'd I ever so long, see 
A day such as that at divine Montmorency ! 

There was but one drawback — at first when we 

started. 
The Colonel and I were inhumanly parted ; 
How cruel — young hearts of such moments to rob I 
He went in Pa's buggy, and I went with Bob 3 
And, I own, I felt spitefully happy to know 
That Papa and his comrade agreed but so-^o. 
For the Colonel, it seems, is a stickler of Bonby's — 
SerVd with him, of course — nay, I'm sure they were 

cronies — 



131 

So martial his features T dear Doll, you can trace 
Ulm, Austerlitz, Lodi, as plain in his face 
As you do on that pillar of glory and brass,* 
Which the poor Due db B — Ri must hate so to pass I 
It appears, too, he made — as most foreigners do — 
About English affairs an odd blunder or two. 
For example — misled by the names, I dare say — 

He confounded Jack Castles withLordC GH5 

And — such a mistake as no mortal hit ever on — 
Fancied tlie present Lord C — md — n the clever one! 

But politics ne'er were the sweet fellow's trade ; 
'Twas for war and the ladies my Colonel was made. 
And, oh, had you heard, as together we walk'd 
Thro* that beautiful forest, how sweetly he talk'd -, 
And how perfectly well he appear'd, Doll, to know 
All the life and adventures of Jean Jacqces Rous- 
seau ! — 

• The column iu the Place Vendome. 
K2 



132 

'' 'Twas there/* said he — not that his xvords I can 

state — 
'Twas a gibb'rish that Cupid alone could translate; — 
But " there/' said he (pointing where, small and 

remote, 
The dear Hermitage rose), ^' there his Julie he 

wrote, — 
'' Upon paper gilt-edg'd,* without blot or erasure ; 
" Then sanded it over with silver and azure, 
" And — oh, what will genius and fancy not do ? — 
'* Tied the leaves up together with nompareille blue !" 
What a trait of Rousseau ! what a crowd of emo- 
tions 
From sand and blue ribbons are conjur'd up here ! 



* " Employant pour cela le plus beau papier dore, s^cbant i 

I'ecriture avec de la poudre d'azur et d'argent, et cousant mes i 

cahiers avec de la nompareille bleue." — Les Cmfessions, Part '2, | 

liv. 9. I 



M 



133 

Alas, that a man of such exquisite* notions 

Should send his poor brats to the Foundling, my 
dear ! 

'' 'Twas here, too, perhaps/' ColojoelCALicoTsaid — 
As down the small garden he pensively led — 
(Though once I could see his sublime forehead 

wrinkle 
With rage not to find there the lov'd periwinkle) t 

• This word, " exquisite," is evidently a favourite of Miss 
Fudge's ; and I understand she was not a little angry when her 
brother Bob coramitted a pun on the last two syllables of it in the 
following cOHplet :— 

" I'd fain praise your Poem— but tell me, how is it 
When / cry out " Exquisite," Echo cries " quiz it f" 

f The flower which Rousseau brought into such fashion among 
the Parisians, by exclaiming one day, " Ah, voila de la per- 
venche!" 



134 

" Twas here he receiv'd from the fair D'Epinay, 
" (Who call'd him so sweetly her Bear,* every day,) 
'* That dear flannel petticoat, puU'd off to form 
'' A waistcoat, to keep the enthusiast warm !" f 

Such, Doll, were the sweet recollections we ponder'd. 
As, full of romance, through that valley we wander' d. 
The flannel (one's train of ideas, how odd it is ! ) 
Led us to talk about other commodities. 
Cambric, and silk, and — I ne'er shall forget. 
For the sun was then hastening in pomp to its set, 

• " Mon ourSj voili votre asyle et vous, moii ours, ne vien- 

drez-vous pas aussi?" &c. &c. 

f " Un jour, qa'il geloit tres fort, en ouvrant ua paquet qu'elle 
m'envoyoit, je trouvai un petit jupon de flanelle d'Angleterre, 
qu'elle me marquoit avoir porte, et dont elle vouloit que je me fisse 
faire un gilet. Ce soin, plus qu' amical, me parut si tendre, comme 
si elle se fut depoaillee pour me vetir, que, dans mon emotion, je 
baisai vingt fois en pleurant le billet et le jupon," 



135 

And full on the Colonel's dark whiskers shone down. 
When he ask'd me, with eagerness, — who made my 

gown? 
The question confus'd me — for,DoLL,youmustknow, 
And I ought to have told my best friend long ago. 
That, by. Pa's strict command, I no longer employ* 
That enchanting couturier e, Madame le Roi, 
But am forc'd, dear, to have Victorine, who— 

deuce take her ! — 
It seems is, at present, the King's mantua-maker*— 
1 mean of his party — and, though much the smartest, 
Le Roi is condemn'd as a rank Bonapartist.f 



* Miss Biddy's notions of French pronunciation may be perceived 
in the rhymes which she always selects for " Le i?ot." 

t Le Roi, who was the Couturiere of the Empress Maria Louisa, 
is at present, of course, out of fashion, and is succeeded in her 
station by the Koyalist mantua-maker, Victorine. 



136 



Think, Doll, how confounded I look'd — so well ; 
knowing 

The Colonel's opinions — my cheeks were quite glow- 
ing j 

I stammer'd out something — nay, even half nam'd 

The legitimate sempstress, when, loud, he exclaim 'd, | 

"I 
*' Yes, yes, by the stitching 'tis plain to be seen v 

^' It was made by that Bourbonite b h, A'^icto- i 

RiNE !" ; 

What a word for a hero ! — but heroes will err, ] 

And I thought, dear, I'dtellyouthingsjM^^ as they were. ' 
Besides, though the word on good manners intrench, '. \ 

I assure you 'tis not half so shocking in French. 

! 
i 

But this cloud, though embarrassing, soon pass'd away, j 

And the bliss altogether, the dreams of that day, ; 

The thoughts that arise, when such dear fellows woo ^ 

us, — 

The nothings that then, love, are evert/ thing to us — 

i 

i 



137 

That quick correspondence of glances and sighs, 
And what Bob calls the ** Twopenny-Post of the 

Eyes" 

Ah Doll ! though I hnoix) you've a heart, 'tis in vain 
To a heart so unpractis'd these things to explain. 
They can only be felt, in their fulness divine. 
By her who has wander' d, at evening's decline. 
Through a valley like that, with a Colonel like mine ! 

But here I must finish — for Bob, my dear Dolly, 
Whom physic, I find, always makes melancholy. 
Is seiz'd with a fancy for church-yard reflections 5 
And, full of all yesterday's rich recollections. 
Is just setting oflf for Montmartre — *' for there is," 
Said he, looking solemn, " the tomb of the Ve'bys ! * 



* It is the brother of the present excellent Restaurateur who 
lies entombed so magnificently in the Cimeti^re Montmartre. The 
inscription on the column at the head of the tomb concludes with 
the following words — " Toute sa vie fut consacree aux arts utiles" 



138 

t 

*' Long, long have 1 wish'd, as a votary true, 

" 0*er the grave of such talents to utter my moans ; 
*' And, to-day — as my stomach is not in good cue 

" For i\iejlesh of the Ve'rys— I'll visit their bones .'" 
He insists upon my going with him — how teasing ! 

This letter, however, dear Dolly, shall lie 
UnseaPd in my draw'r, that, if any thing pleasing 

Occurs while Tm out, I may tell you — good bye. 

B. F. 

Four o'clock. 
Oh Dolly, dear Dolly, I'm ruin'd for ever — 
I ne'er shall be happy again, Dolly, never ! 
To think of the wretch — what a victim was 1 ! 
'Tis too much to endure — I shall die, I shall die — 
My brain's in a fever — my pulses beat quick — 
I shall die, or, at least, be exceedingly sick ! 
Oh, what do you think ? after all my romancing, 
My visions of glory, my sighing, my glancing. 



139 



This Colonel — 1 scarce can commit it to paper — 
This Colonel's no more than a vile linen-draper ! ! 
'Tis true as 1 live— I had coax'd brother Bob so 
(You'll hardly make out what I'm writing, I sob so) 
For some little gift on my birth-day — September 
The thirtieth, dear, I'm eighteen, you remember — 
ITiat Bob to a shop kindly order'd the coach, 

(Ah, littlel thought who the shopman would prove) 
To bespeak me a few of those mouchoirs de poche, 
Which, in happier hours, I have sigh'd for, my 
love, — 
(The most beautiful things — two Napoleons the 

price — 
And one's name in the corner embroidered so nice !) 
Well, with heart full of pleasure, I enter'd the shop, 
But — ye Gods, what a phantom ! — I thought I should 
drop — 



140 

There he stood^ my i^ear Dolly— no room for a 
doubt — 

There,, behind the vile counter, these eyes saw him 
stand. 
With a piece of French cambric, before him roll'd out, 

And that horrid yard-measure uprais'd in his hand! 
Oh — Papa, all along, knew the secret, 'tis clear — 
'Tvv£is a shopmari he meant by a " Brandenburgh," 

dear ! 
The man, whom I fondly had fancied a King, 

And, when that too delightful illusion was past. 
As a hero had worshipped — vile, treacherous thing — 

To turn out but a low linen-draper at last ! 
My head swam around — the wretch smil'd, I believe. 
But his smiling, alas, could no longer deceive — 
1 fell back on Bob — my wholeheart seem'd to wither — 
And, pale as a ghost, I was carried back hither ! 



A- 



141 



i I only remember that Bob^ as I caught him. 

With cruel facetiousness said — " curse the Kiddy ! 
" A staunch Revolutionis always I've thought 
him, 
'* But now I find out he's a Counter one, Biddy !" 

I Only think, my dear creature, if this should be 
known 
To that saucy, satirical thing. Miss Mal one ! 
What a story 'twill be at Shandangan for ever ! 
What laughs and what quizzing she'll have with 
the men ! 
It will spread through the country — and never, oh, 
nfcver 
Can Biddy be seen at Kilrandy again ! 
Farewell — I shall do something desp'rate, 1 fear — 
And, ah ! if my fate ever reaches your ear. 



/« 



142 

One tear of compassion my Doll will not grudge 
To her poor — broken-hearted — young friend 

Biddy Fudge, 

Nota bene — I'm sure you will hear, with delight. 
That we're going, all three, to see Brunet to-night. 
A laugh will revive me — and kind Mr. Cox 
(Do you know him ?) has got us the Governor's box! 



NOTES, 



Oh this learning, what a thing it is ! 

Shakspkare, 



HSI 



)l 



NOTES. 



Page 16. 

So Ferdinand embroiders gaily. 
It would be an edifying thing to write a history of the private 
amusements of sovereigns, tracing them do^vn from the fly-sticking 
of Domitian, the mole-catching of Artabanus, the hog- mimicking 
of Parmenides, the horse-currying of Aretas, to the petticoat-em- 
broidering of Ferdinand, and the patience-playing of the P e 

R 1! 

Page 24. 
Your curst tea and toast. 
Is Mr. Bob aware that his contempt for tea renders him liable 
to a charge of atheism? Such, at least, is the opinion cited in 
Christian. Falster. Amaenitat. Phiblog. — " Atheum interpretabatur 
hominem ad herba The aversum." He would not, I think, have 
been so irreverent to this beverage of scholars, if he had read 
Peter Petit's Poem in praise of Tea, addressed to the learned 
Huet — or the Epigraphe which Pechlinus wrote for an altar he 
meant to dedicate to this herb — or the Anacreontics of Peter 
Fraiicius, in which he calls Tea 

L 



146 

The following passage from one of these Anacreonlics will, I 
have no doubt, be gratifying to all true Thdsts. 

Ey Xf!^<7£o<j -x-^(po«<r< ! 

Ai^oj TO vfxTaa HySn. ; 

2e /xoj ^iaxoyoiVTO 
2x'^(pot; ty fxvssivotatj 
Tw xaXXft 'TtciTTuc-ai 
KaXajj yj:Ji(ic-i nnaai. 
Which may be thns translated. 

Yes, let Hebe, ever .young. 

High in heav'n her Nectar hold. 
And to Jove's immortal throng 

Pour the tide in cups of gold— 
I'ii not envy heaven's Princes, 

While, with snowy hands, for me, 
Kate the china tea-cup rinses. 
And pours out her best Bohea! 

Page 36. 

Here break ne of, at this unhallow'd name 

The late lord C. of Ireland had a carious theory about names 

--he held that every man with three names was a jacobin Hi. 

instances in Ireland were numerous :-viz. Archibald Hamilton 

Rowan, TheobaldWoIfeTone,JamesNapperTandy,JohnPhilpot 
Curran.&c.&c. and, in England, he produced as examples Charl« 



147 

ri James Fox, Richard Brinsley Sheridan, John Home Tooke, Francis 
Burdett Jones, &c. &c. 

The Romans called a thief ** homo trium literarura." 
Tun' trium literarum horao 
Me vituperas ? Fur.* 

Plautus, Aulular. Act 2. Scene 4. 

Page 42. 
The Testament, turn'd into melodrames nightly. 
" The Old Testament," says the theatrical Critic in the Gazette 
de France, " is a mine of gold for the managers of our small play- 
houses. A multitude crowd round the Theatre de la Gaite every 
evening to see the Passage of the Red Sea." 

In the play-bill of c'ne of these sacred melo-draraes at Vienna, 
we find " The Voice of G— d, by M. Schwart*." 

Page 59. 

Tui-nsfrom his victims to his glees ^ 

And has them both well executed. 

How amply these two propensities of the Noble Lord would have 

been gratified among that antient people of Etruria, who, as Arls- 

• Dissaldem supposes this word to be a glossema : — that is, he 
thuiks " Fur" has made his escape from the margin into the text- 

L2 



148 



totle tells us, used to whip their slaves once a year to the sound of 
flutes! 

Page 64. 
Note. 
No one can suspect Boileau of a sneer at his royal master, but 
the following lines, intended for praise, look very like one. De- 
scribing the celebrated passage of the Rhine, during which Louis 
remdned on the safe side of the river, he says 

Louis, les animant du feu de son courage, 
Se plaint de sa grandeur, qui V attache au rivage! 

Epit.4. 

Page 90. 
Tilljive o'clock brings on that hour so momentous. 
Had Mr. Bob's Dinner Epistle been inserted, I was prepared 
with au abundance of learned matter to illustrate it, for which, as, 
indeed, for all my " scientia popinae,*'* I am indebted to a friend 
in the Dublin Univtrsity, — whose reading formerly lay in the magic 
line 5 but, in consequence of the Provost's enlightened alarm at such 
studies, he has taken to the authors " de re cibaria" instead ; and 
has left Bodin, Remigius, Agrippa and his little dog, Filiolus, for 
Afkiusj Nonius, and that most learned and savoury Jesuit, B^Uen- 
gertis. 

• Seneca. 



149 



Page 90. 
Note. 
Lampreys, indeed, seem to have been always a favourite dish 
with Kings — whether from some congeniality betwen them and 
that fish, I know not ; but Dio Cassius tells us that Poliio fattened 
his lampreys with human blood. St. Louis of France was parti- 
cularly fond of them. — See the anecdote of Thomas Aquinas 
eating up his majesty's lamprey, in a note upon Rabelais, liv. 3. 
chap. 2. 

Page 117. 
" Live bullion," says merciless Boi, " which I think 
" Would f if coin'd with a little mint sauce, be delicious !" 
Mr. Bob need not be ashamed of his cookery jokes, when he is 
kept in countenance by such men as Cicero, St. Augustine, and 
that jovial bishop, Venantius Fortunatus. The pun of the great 
orator upon the " jus Verriuum," which he calls bad hog-broth, 
from a play upon both the words, is well known ; and the Saint's 
puns upon the conversion of Lot's wife into salt are equally in- 
genious: — "In salem conversa homiuibus fidelibus quoddamprae- 
stitit condimentum, quo sapiant aiiquid, unde illud caveatur ex- 
emplum." — de Civitat. Dei, Lib. 16. cap. 30. — The jokes of the 
pious favourite of Queen Radagunda, the convivial Bishop Ve- 
nantius, may be found among his poemS) in some lines against 
a cook who had robbed him. The following is similar to Cicero's 
pun. 

Vlns juscella Coci quam mea jura valent. 



150 

See his poems, Corpus Poetar. Latin. Tom. 2. p. 1732. — Of 
the same tiiid was Montmaur's joke, when a dish was spilt over 
him — " suramum jus, summa injuria;" and the same celebrated 
parasite, in ordering a sole to be placed before him, said 
Eligi cui dicas, tu raihi sola places. 

The reader may likewise see, among a good deal of kitchen 
erudition, the learned Li/^sius's jokes on cutting up a capon in his 
Saturnal. Sermon. Lib. 2. cap. 2. 

Page 120. 
Upon singing and cookery, Bobby, of course, 
Standing up for the latter Fine Art infullforce. 
Cookery has been dignified by the researches of a Bacon ; (see 
his Natural History, Receipts, &c.) and takes its station as one of 
the Fme Arts in the following passage of Mr. Dugald Stewart. — 
" Agreeably to this view of the subject, sweet may be said to be 
intrimicalh/ pleasing, and bitter to be relatively pleasuig; which 
both are, in many cases, equally essential to those eflfects, which, 
in the art of cookery, correspond to that composite beauty, which 
it is the object of the painter and of the poet to create." Philo- 
sophical Essays. 



The following occasional pieces have already 
appeared in my friend Mr. Peery's paper, and 
are here, '^ by desire of several persons of distinc- 
tion," reprinted. 

T. B. 



} 



i 



I 



)1 



I LINES ON THE DEATH OF MR. P— RC— V— L. 

! 

In the dirge we sung o'er him no censure was heard, 

Unembitter'd and free did the tear-drop descend } 

I We forgot^ in that hour, how the statesman had err'd. 

And wept for the husband, the father, and friend ! 

Oh, proud was the meed his integrity won. 
And gen'rous indeed were the tears that we shed, 

When, in grief, we forgot all the ill he had done. 
And, though wrong'd by him, living, bewail'd 
him, when dead. 



154 

Even now, if one harsher emotion intrude, 
'Tis to wish he had chosen some lowlier state. 

Had known what he was — and, content to be good, 
Had ne'er, for our ruin, aspir'd to be great. 

So, left through their own little orbit to move. 
His years might have roll'd inoflfensive away ; 
His children might still have been bless'd with his 
love. 
And England would ne'er have been curs'd with 
his sway. 



155 

To the Editor of the Morning Chronicle. 
Sir 3 
In order to explain the following Fragment, it is 
necessary to refer your readers to a late florid de- 
scription of the Pavilion at Brighton, in the apart- 
ments of which, we are told, '* FuM, The Chinese 
Bird of Royalty,'' is a principal ornament. 

I am. Sir, yours, &c. 

Mum. 



FUM AND HUM, THE TWO BIRDS OF ROYALTY. 

A FRAGMENT. 

One day the Chinese Bird of Royalty, FuM, 
Thus accosted our own Bird of Royalty, Hum, 
In that Palace or China-shop (Brighton, which is it?) 
Where Fum had just come to pay Hum a short visit. — 
Near akin are these Birds, though they differ in 

nation, 
(The breed of the Hums is as old as creation) 



IM 



rVlligtrtMim imii. Miliar pn 
notk. r«cUaK Mid rm^wmm cm^tmiw^ ImOI way 

Jir goum Md tiM v«lMfv. Uka Urd 

Fc7M dMit In Miibrtat. linnwi, Btkitm 

So mugiMlal llMir ImIm, lkal« fitai ft'M Am dni 

TIm ioorof UmI grmmiC lOaa-irmbuttM •! Brt f lMD n . 
Tkt iMitvnw. Mid dr^om, mi ikUifi imuid IW 



Wcf« to nkc trlMl U WH. •'Ottf/' «p rm. 

•* I'MallMSk' 



157 



' And that joUy old idol he koMli to so low 
" C«n be Done but our rouudHkbout godhead, fat 

Fo!" 
It chaoc'd, at this moment, th* Episcopal Pi% 
Was imploring the P— — k to dbpense with his wig,* 
Which the Bird, overhearing, flew high o'er his head. 
And some ToBiT-like marks of hb patronage shed. 
Which so dimm'd the poor Dandy's idolatitMS tjt. 
That, while FoM cried " oh Fo!" aU the Court 
cried" oh fie!* 



Hut, a trace to digrawion thawi Birds of a feather 
Thus talk'd, t'other night, on State matters together : 
(The P-— »■ just in bed, or about to depart for't. 
His legs full of gout, and his arms full of ,) 

* In rnwi ^mbmi aim oM pMJir. ihM he tlMld be tUom^ 
to m hb ova Inir, mhmnmr ha wl^ \m siwud Id a 
BkhofiHc bv U* R 1 n M. 



I .., H' »i .ay^ roM— Pom, oC 
(I. 



Ili-M, How Ikrcs U Willi Koy«ltf i. 

kmf hk ^ ta rj — or boir 
(Hm Bifd Iwd JAM takm • Hull WMi't 

Uate B H, V TH. MM 

•• At lor «i la Prklo" h^rt. m ilrvl of ft din 

PfMB ilir brd-HMmbtr cmmr, wbcfv Umi loiy Mm- 

dwU. 
C m . OH (wlMn FuM aUk Hm r««/MiM of 

To %kt a«f*. iSifuUc bsM cyf Ibr fal ItSul't r»«M- ' 



159 

(Au/d Unc — his l^miMiiji ivakx L— \ — HP— LCOIDC^ 

In txillateral Uiie^, from the old Mother Hum, 

C — STL Ml a IIiM-bu^;^ — L — v — RF — La IIUM- 

(IruMi.) 
'J*he SiRtih being fintsh'd, out nuh'd C— sfL^'-<iR, 
^addled lluM in « hurry, and, whip, spur, away ! 
through the regions of air, like a ^>nip on his bobby. 
Ne'er paus'd, till lie lighted in St. Stephen's lobby. 



LINES ON THE DEATH OF SH— R— D— N. 

Principibus placaisse viris. — Horat. 

Yes, grief will have way — but the fast falling tear 
Shall be mingled with deep execrations on those. 

Who could bask in that Spirit's meridian career. 
And yet leave it thus lonely and dark at its close : — 

Whose vanity flew round him, only while fed 
By the odour his fame in its summer-time gave 3 — 

Whose vanity now, with quick scent for the dead. 
Like the Ghole of the East, comes to feed at his 
grave ! 



161 

Oh ! it sickens the heart to see bosoms so hollow. 
And spirits so mean in the great and high-born -, 

To think what a long line of titles may follow 
The relics of him who died — friendless and lorn ! 

j How proud they can press to the fun'ral array 
I Of one, whom they shunn'd in his sickness and 
sorrow : — 
How bailiffs may seize his last blanket, to-day. 
Whose pall shall be held up by nobles, to-morrow ! 

And Thou, too, whose life, a sick epicure's dream, 
Incoherent and gross, even grosser had pass'd. 

Were it not for that cordial and soul-giving beam. 
Which his friendship and wit o'er thy nothingness 
cast : — 

No, not for the wealth of the land, that supplies thee 
With millions to heap upon Foppery's shrine 3 — 

M 



162 



No, not for the riches of all who despise thee, 
Tho' this would make Europe's whole opulence j 
naine ; — 

Would I suflfer what — ev'n in the heart that thou 
hast — 
All mean as it is — must have consciously bum*d. 
When the pittance, which shame had wrung from 
thee at last. 
And which found all his wants at an end, was 
return'd ! * 

" Was this then the fate !" — future ages will say. 
When some names shall live but in history's curse ; 

When Truth will be heard, and these Lords of a day ji 
Be forgotten as fools, or remember'd as worse ; — [ 

• The sura was two hundred pounds — offered when Sh-r-d-n j 
could no longer take any sustenance, and declined, for him, bj 
his friends. 

1 

>. 



mm 



163 

" Was this then the fate of that high-gifted man, 
n " The pride of the palace, the bower and the hall, 
" The orator — dramatist — minstrel, — who ran 
" Through each mode of the lyre, and was master 
of all! 

•* Whose mind was an essence, compounded with art 

*',From the finest and best of all other men's 

powers ; — 

" Who ruled, like a wizard, the world of the heart, 

*' And could call up its sunshine, or bring down 

its showers ! 

'* Whose humour, as gay as the fire-fly's light, 
*' PlayM round every subject, and shone as it 
play'd 3— 

" Whose wit, in the combat, as gentle as bright, 
*' Ne'er carried a heart-stain away on its blade ; — 



164 

*' Whose eloquence — bright'ning whatever it tried, 
•'' Whether reason or fancy, the gay or the gravCj— 

*' Was as rapid, as deep, and as brilliant a tide, 
*' As ever bore Freedom aloft on its wave !" 

Yes — such was the man, and so wretched his fate ; — 
And thus, sooner or later, shall all have to grieve, 

Who waste their morn'sdew in the beams of the Great, 
And expect 'twill return to refresh them at eve ! 

In the woods of the North there are insects that prey 
On the brain of the elk till his very last sigh -, * 

Oh, Genius ! thy patrons, more cruel than they. 
First feed on thy brains, and then leave thee to die! 

* Naturalists have observed that, upon dissecting an elk, there 
was found in its head some large flies, with its brain almost eaten 
away by them.— HiVtor^/ of Poland. 



EPISTLE 

FROM 

TOM CRIBB TO BIG BEN 

CdNCERMNG SOME FOUL PLAY IN A LATE TRANSACTION.* 



Ahi, mio Ben !" — Metastasio. f 



What ! Ben, my old hero, is this your renown ? 
Is tJiis the new go f — kick a man when he's down ! 
When the foe has knock'd under, to tread on him 

then — 
By the fist of my father, I blush for thee, Ben ! 
" Foul ! foul !" all the lads of the fancy exclaim — 

* Written soon after Bonaparte's transportation to St. Helena, 
f Torn, I suppose, was " assisted" to this Motto by Mr. Jackson, 
wlio, it is well known, keeps the most learned company going. 



166 

C BARLEY Shock is electrified — Belcher spits 

flame — 
And MoLYNEUX — ay, even Blacky cries " shame!" 
Time was, when John Bull little difiference spied 
'Twixt the foe at his feet, and the friend at his side ; 
When he found (such his humour in fighting and 

eating) 
His foe, like his beef-steak, the sweeter for beating — 
But this comes. Master Ben, of your curst foreign 

notions. 
Your trinkets, wigs, thingumbobs, gold lace and 

lotions 3 
Your Noyaus, Cura^oas, and theDevil knows what — 
(One swig of Blue Ruin* is worth the whole lot !) 
Your great and small crosses — (my eyes, what a 

brood ! 
A cross-buttock from me would do some of them 

good !) 

♦ Gin. 



167 

Which have spoilt you, till hardly a drop^ my old 

porpoise, 
Of pure English claret is left in your corpus ; 
And (as Jim says) the only one trick, good or bad, 
Of the fancy you're up to, is Jibbing, my lad ! 
Hence it comes^ — ^Boxiana, disgrace to thy page !— - 
Having floor'd, by good luck, the first swe/Zof the age. 
Having conquer'd the prime one, that miWd us all 

round. 
You kickM him, oWBen, as he gasp*d on the ground ! 
Ay — just at the time to show spunk, if you'd got 

any — 
Kick'd him, and jaw'd him, and lag*d * him to 

Botany ! 
Oh, shade of the Cheesemonger ! f you, who, alas ! 
Doubled up, by the dozen, those Mounseers in brass, 

* Transported. 

f A Life Guardsman, one oithe Fancy, who distinguished him- 
self, and was killed in the memorable set-to at Waterloo. 



168 

On that great day of milling j when blood lay in laki 
When Kings held the bottle, and Europe the stake 
Look doT^Ti upon Ben — gee him, dunghill aU o*er. 
Insult the fall'n foe, that can harm him no more ; 
Out, cowardly spooney ! — again and again. 
By the fist of my father, I blush for thee, Bbn. 
To shew the white feather is many men's doom. 
But, what of one feather ? — Ben shows a whole Plume 



:e? I 



THE END. 



T. DAVISON, LOMBAHD-STRBKT, WHITEFRIAM, LONDON. 












' -.■ -i -5 .->* 





^^o^ 



./■0 



l^J" 






.? -s-^ 



,-*' 






S'^ 



-^\^^ ,.0, <-;''-^%d^ .-., 



c?^-- 



<5^ 



^.rR.J? 



-% 






■#- 






"O / .. . - \v O^ . ^ fr c ^ \>' ^ t, ,, ^^ \ 



i 









.^.o<^^- ^.'':?:^:\# 









"^e^ riC::&'!^ 



^sf^ ^ 



^^0^ 

H Q, 






^ V; 






%" 

^ 






%^0^ 






^ -.nO'^ 



#^ 












sf^ ^ 



% 
' % 



^Htt^v* vlN 



^ ^^ 






Q'.. ^^/ 



.'^^::^.' 



^ ^ ^ ^> / ^ -^ 









^G^ 



^ 






< 



'^^^^^J^ 






^ * .^-'>rv 






%"'• 



V 






